Betrayal
by PleasantlyInsanePerson
Summary: Charlie discovers Bass and Connor's nasty little secret, but is all as it appears? First post, suppose there's a little bit of Charloe in there.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:  
**

**Hi,  
**

**Been milling around here for a while now, and I'm finally posting something!  
I'm still pretty new to this (despite the numerous unfinished stories in My Documents) but I guess this is what you folks would call a one-shot, short and simple, something I really should have had a crack at when I first started writing.**

**It might progress into something more, depending on how much caffeine I consume whilst at the computer...**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**PIP**

* * *

"_Don't worry; we'll get the Republic back. Just gonna take a bit of time."_

Charlie couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. The Monroes… Talking about the Monroe Republic… Talking about how to bring it back!

She'd been watching father and son since they all got back, watched them stalk off together every night, and uselessly tried to listen in on their hushed conversations, suspicion needed investigation and now it had finally proved fruitful.

However, Charlie felt no feelings of accomplishment or triumph in what she had uncovered, instead, it felt like there was a hole in her chest and it was rapidly filling up with anger and a sense of loss, she had been a fool, they all had, in thinking Monroe had changed. She had had the most faith in him, more than Miles, in fact. And here he was, betraying everything they had built up.

Her eyes lingered on Connor as he walked back to the little barn they had all been calling home since the crispy Patriots fiasco. She couldn't warm to him, sure, he was good in a fight and was easy on the eyes, but for reasons so far unknown to her, she didn't like him, hadn't from the moment they met. He was trouble, one Monroe was bad enough!

As soon as he disappeared through the hatch doors, she wasted no time in stepping out of the shadows, making herself known to Bass. In the dim light of the moon, he looked genuinely shocked to see her, even jumpy, he knew he'd been caught out. Good, it meant he knew what he was doing was at least a little bit wrong.

"Charlie…" His voice was a strained whimper as she stalked towards him, picking up the pace and almost breaking into a full-force run.

She shoved him backwards, hard; he struggled to hold his balance. She came at him again and again, with more force each time, throwing some punches and slaps in there for good measure.

"You… Son of a… Bitch!" She growled out between attacks, voice increasing in volume as she allowed her rage to consume her. Bass made a half-hearted grab for her wrists, but she wriggled free, shoving him away one last time, "I believed in you, I almost trusted you!"

"It's not what you think." He hoped she would hear him out, she had in the past.

Tears stung her eyes as she tried to catch her breath; she blinked them back, replacing sadness with determined hatred. She turned and started to walk away, Miles needed to know what his 'brother' was up to, his hand gripped her arm tightly and swung her back around quickly, providing enough force to land a swift punch to Monroe's cheek.

He finally lost his footing, stumbling to the ground. When he looked back up at her, she had pulled a knife out from God-knows-where, "You taught me how to be a better killer, Bass, don't think for a second I won't use your own tricks against you."

Bass shuffled up onto his elbows, stretching his palms out to her in surrender, "You gotta listen to me, Charlie," he pushed himself to his feet, straightening up closer to her than intended, her eyes were glossed over with unshed tears but no less furious, "The kid wants power, riches, a decent life, he doesn't wanna be poor and starving again."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at 'again' but otherwise remained completely unchanged by his words, her knife hand twitched, "So let him have power, let him find his own way, don't get involved."

"You think I'd let my son turn into what I did? No way, he needs his family around him, people he can look to for help when things get tough. People to rein him in, set him on the straight. It won't be like it was before." She stared into his eyes, the bright blues being heightened by the moon's light; he seemed to truly believe in what he was spouting to her.

But she wasn't so easily convinced, "How can you be so sure?"

Bass looked away for a moment; scratching the back of his neck as he calculated his words, "Because he'll have you…," her heart skipped as he brought his gaze back up to her face, "He'll have you and Miles. You fixed me, you can fix him too."

The words were analysed and re-analysed repeatedly in her head, had he just offered to give her the Republic? She was confident he would get it back if he really wanted, but did he want her to be a part of it? The idea was both disgusting and a little tempting, all that power… She could see the appeal. However, she also saw what that power did to people.

Charlie eyed him up and down, he looked so much better, so much happier and healthier since going to Mexico, he'd come so far from a place everyone thought he'd left behind, so far from the General, would he really want to go back there? Back to what he was?

"And what about you?" She was sceptical but the look he was giving her weakened her stubbornness, he looked like a damn lost puppy, it made her insides twist with something unusually warm and unsettling.

The question took him off guard; he was expecting the typical smarmy, sarcastic snipes that all Mathesons turned to when they were pissed off, "What about me?"

"Where will you be in this master plan?"

He dared to move a piece of stray hair away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear with a small smile and letting his fingers briefly slide over her neck, she didn't flinch or back away, she wasn't afraid of him and hadn't been for a very long time and more importantly, she understood the gesture to be one of comfort, Miles did the same thing on many occasions.

Still, when Miles did it, it was different, Bass's touch made her skin goose bump and tingle.

He quickly tugged his hand away, realising how long he had lingered over her soft, tanned skin, it took him a moment to remember her question, or why they were even talking in the first place. He shrugged, "Haven't thought about that yet."

It was an honest answer, he was sure the Republic would be in good hands, taking the responsibility on again himself was still too raw an idea. He followed her gaze to his burnt Monroe tattoo, before seeking out her own brand. He lifted her wrist up, letting his thumb slide over the rough patch of skin that bore his mark.

He regretted with every fibre of his being that she had been put through that, there were no excuses or reasons to explain the whole branding thing that sounded right or fair, it was wrong. A monstrous act, plain and simple.

"There'll be no more Militia, that's for sure."

She sighed as he released her, "Then who will protect the people?"

Bass chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with glee, "See, you're already thinking like a leader!" Charlie loved seeing people smile, when it was genuine at least, but especially him. He didn't do it enough, though; none of them really had much to smile about anymore. It was very hard to stay mad at him when he was giving her that perfect grin.

They began walking back to the barn together, the grass crunching beneath their feet. She shook her head, staring up at the moon, her voice sounding almost dreamlike, "I don't want to be a leader, Bass."

"Alright, but if and when the Republic is rebuilt, will you at least let me set you up somewhere nice, hmm? Nice, big house in a decent area, give you some semblance of a normal life."

Charlie struggled to keep from giggling or rolling her eyes, she took these sort of things with a pinch of salt, finding it highly unlikely that she would ever get a chance to settle down and be 'normal', she didn't even miss having a home anymore, but she played along anyway, "Sure, if I don't get killed first."

She was spun around so fast and violently that she lost her breath for a moment, Bass's eyes were filled with anger but it wasn't directed at her, although one might think otherwise with his nails digging into the toned flesh of her arm.

His jaw clenched, "I thought I'd made it clear that no one is gonna be laying a finger on you." _Except himself, obviously._

Charlie shivered from his rough grasp; the sudden seriousness took her by surprise but she felt warm inside once more, reminding her of how glad she was of his protectiveness, "Because you'll save me, because you always come back," he paused, scanning her face before nodding stiffly, "You can't protect me forever."

"I can try, Charlotte." He hadn't used her full name in so long, it had annoyed her at first but now she realised just how much she missed it. She shrugged out of his now loose grip and closed the distance between them, leaving scant inches between their faces.

Bass swallowed hard, unsure if she was about to kill him or kiss him, she was so close that he could feel her breath against his lips. His pants suddenly felt a little tighter and he struggled to maintain the façade of being unaffected by their close proximity.

He took a precious moment to memorize her face, cheeks pink from the Texan sun, flawlessly tanned skin, and those eyes, crystal blue and staring right into his own. She looked a little paler in the moonlight but no less mesmerizing. They were rare in their ability to read the other's mind with just a look, but her eyes were giving nothing away right now, she was a mystery.

He was sure his own eyes were pleading, begging her to say or do something, anything! There was no doubt he was an open book to her right now, giving her all the answers to whatever questions were running through her mind.

It was becoming tense, he blinked, cracking a little under the pressure, she responded with a smirk and backed away slowly, only taking her eyes off him once she'd reached the barn doors, stopping before going inside, "If I sense for one single second that you're turning into General Monroe again, I'll slit your throat, sound fair?"

A little part of Bass felt broken, she didn't trust him anymore. They had been partners for convenience over the past couple of months, only seeing each other as a spare pair of hands in a fight, but they'd grown close-ish in recent weeks, working together because they wanted to, not because they had to.

It hurt to know that that was probably all over now.

He nodded his agreement to her threat, "Goodnight, Sebastian." She said, before slipping out of sight.

Bass let out the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding in and aggressively ran his hands through his hair, feeling more than a little hacked off at what had just gone down, if it was Miles or Rachel, he could handle it, they never had much confidence in him anyway, always expecting him to turn in the blink of an eye.

But never Charlie, well, maybe at the beginning, but she had been the first to extend an olive branch and see him as something other than a monster.

He turned and smashed his foot into a metal bucket, noisily kicking it a fair way across the field. He mumbled several curse words as he crept inside and found himself a place to sleep, he'd fix this, he would make her believe in him again and get his Republic back, no matter what.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

***Looks disapprovingly at unfinished projects.* Should probably give up writing...**

***Looks at reviews for Betrayal Chapter 1.* HAPPEH, HAPPEH, HAPPEH! Confidence = sky-high, suddenly feeling motivated and creative!**

**That will probably all change after work tomorrow but seriously, I can't remember where I read it but I understand now when someone said reviews are like nectar, thank you so much.  
It was almost immediately after I decided this story would be a one shot that my brain decided: 'NOPE, gonna mess you up with a bunch of ideas!'  
It's almost half one in the morning here in England, so please forgive me if there are mistakes or this chapter is a bit meh, PIP is sleepy.**

**Anyway, again, thank you all so much, hope you enjoy!**

**PIP**

* * *

Charlie hadn't been the only one listening in that night; Gene had been catching snippets of conversations between the Monroe men for days, with Charlie's outburst providing the full reveal. Spying on his nearest and dearest had become a habit, the Patriots had ground it into his brain long ago, he couldn't stop, even if he wanted to.

Gene had kept the Monroe's secret to himself, biding his time until he could do something with it. Plus, the typhus infection had been keeping everyone pretty busy.

He had been thinking of ways to use the information to his advantage, the most obvious being that this could finally separate the Mathesons from the Monroes forever, bringing some semblance of peace to his daughter's addled mind, the man's presence had her teetering on the edge of insanity again.

There was just one thing that kept cropping up, putting a dint in all his plans: Charlie. He'd been observing her a lot recently, it was hard not to; she was so grown up now, no longer the little girl who loved piggy back rides and merry-go-rounds, no, now she was a fighter, a well-made killer, a killer with a very subtle hint of affection for the man that had ruined all their lives.

Sebastian had taken away her father and brother, hid her mom from her for years, and had now broken her heart with his plans for the future, surely she would be a little more inclined to having him gone now?

Still, Gene couldn't take the risk of destroying the one thing that might be keeping his granddaughter remotely grounded, the man had saved her life, protected her, taught her how to look after herself better. Though she would never admit it, caring for and aiding in the recovery of Monroe's sanity had given Charlie something to do, put some purpose in her life, Gene had to be sure she could get on fine without him.

He found her sitting out in the sun, washing a bloody shirt in an old bucket, a sight that was becoming increasingly common, but turned his stomach every time. She turned her head slightly, probably recognising his footfalls or remembering his scent or whatever other crazy ninja stuff she did now.

"Hey, grandpa." Gene winced as he sat his aching body down beside her.

"Hey… Charlie," he paused, thinking of the right words that wouldn't get her suspicious, the very thought made him smile, she was her mother's daughter, when was she not suspicious?! "What do you think of Monroe?"

The warm breeze did nothing to soothe Gene's nerves or the drips of sweat that had been running down his back all day, there was no way this conversation would go smoothly, they both knew where he'd go with it.

Charlie scoffed and went back to scrubbing, somewhat more vigorously, at her dirtied tank top; the wind flicked her hair away from her face, revealing a frown, "Which one?" she turned to face him with a smirk, hiding her displeasure.

Gene huffed out a reluctant chuckle, "Sebastian."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at her grandfather's choice of name, remembering that he wasn't exactly in their 'inner circle'; he wasn't close enough for nicknames. She shrugged, "He's handy in a fight, saved my life a couple times…," the heaviness in her chest returned as she was plagued with thoughts of all the times she'd trusted him to have her back, all the times they'd fought together, "Why?"

"You two just seem," Gene scratched his cheek, making a mental note to shave later, "Close."

She momentarily forgot that he had no idea of the plan to rebuild the Republic, no idea of what had happened between her and Bass a few nights earlier, "Not anymore."

"But you were." He was disappointed that she didn't explain _why_, it meant she was still trying to protect Monroe, ultimately – and unfortunately – meaning she must still feel something for him.

"What? No, I don't know," she sighed loudly, splashing her top into the water, not bothering to hide her frustration and turned towards him, "What's all this about?"

He didn't have a chance to reply, Rachel's voice could be heard frantically calling out for her father, they stood as she rounded the corner of the barn, her face was red and she gripped her chest, desperately trying to catch her breath from running too much.

Charlie was the first to approach, setting a firm hand on her mom's shoulder in case she fainted, "Mom, what's the matter?" there was no reply, just wheezing.

Gene followed suit, placing a hand on her other shoulder, "Whoa, Rachel, calm down before you give yourself a coronary. Charlie, go get her some water."

Rachel shook her head, putting her hand out to stop her daughter, and grabbed at the suddenly tight scarf around her neck that she'd been using to cover her mouth at the quarantine site, "N-No, it's fine, Dad, it's the virus. The virus isn't spreading."

Charlie and Gene exchanged confused glances before looking back at her with worry, was she losing it again?

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying… The Patriots started this outbreak on purpose," Rachel was getting just a little bit annoyed with everyone always looking at her like she was crazy, "Didn't you hear me? They have manufactured this disease and they're handing it out in _your_ town, Dad, you've got to do something!"

Gene's mind was reeling, he didn't want to believe it, he almost preferred the idea that his daughter was crazy. What could he do? Besides, he hadn't been feeling all that great himself, he thought back to his and Charlie's little adventure with the wagon full of oranges, then people started getting sick.

"Charlie, you don't think th-"

"The oranges? Yeah. But how?"

Gene shrugged as a troubling thought entered his head, "These sons-of-bitches are capable of anything, I… I had one."

"Yeah, so did I" Rachel looked from her father to her daughter and back again, mouth agape and growing more and more shocked as the seconds ticked by, "What? I hadn't seen an orange since I was a kid! Can you blame me for being curious?"

Not only had she lost her mother, husband and son because of this new world she had a part in creating, she was about to lose her father and daughter too if they couldn't fix this. It was a terrifying notion, something she just couldn't cope with. A single tear rolled down Rachel's cheek as she registered just what the outcome could be.

Gene wasn't exactly ecstatic at the idea of his impending death, but he could accept that he was old, he had lived his life, his granddaughter, however, had not. He was not going to stand by and watch her die. He suddenly found a purpose for Monroe.

If the Patriots really had created this disease, then they must have a cure hidden away somewhere, returning a resurrected warlord to them would surely win him at least one antidote.

"Let's talk about this inside." Gene put his arms around them, nudging them towards the doors.

The trio huddled together in the barn, musing over everything with a bottle of whiskey, whilst individually thinking of plans and possibilities of their own.

"What are the symptoms?" Charlie enquired, silently checking off each symptom mentioned that she had experienced in the past few days. She had noticed that a few of them applied to her grandpa too.

She hadn't assumed she was ill, blaming her fever, aches and nausea on a mix of being a hormonal woman and getting worked up over what had gone down between her and Bass. The reality was cruel and unanticipated, she never expected to live into her 30s but damn, going out all sick and achy was pretty pathetic.

After everything she had been through, all the danger and adventure, she really thought she'd die fighting, getting shot or cut to ribbons, thinking about it, she'd prefer it that way! Getting ill seemed so… Boring.

Gene and Rachel started talking about her grandmother, Charlie couldn't remember her but she had seen old photos, her face was familiar and Charlie would spend hours desperately trying to recall something, trying to piece together images and stories she was told of days at the park, picnics and playing hopscotch.

But there was nothing, it was like her brain had shut itself off from the deceased people in her life, sparing her anymore pain.

The whiskey was too soothing; the women fell asleep side-by-side shortly after the sun set and Gene saw his chance to put his plan into action, he watched the two most important people in his life snoozing away like there was nothing wrong, the peaceful slumber taking them away from the sore reality, he quickly covered them both with a blanket before sneaking out to the Patriot camp as darkness fell.

A little distance away from the site, there was a bonfire roaring away, a closer inspection revealed soldiers throwing bodies into the flames, Gene couldn't hold back from vomiting, unsure if it was from the infection or from the sight and stench of burning bodies. He hoped it wasn't from the typhus, if he was starting to show more serious signs, Charlie would too, and that wouldn't leave them with much time.

The noise in camp was unbearable, people retching and crying out, he was almost relieved when he reached Truman's tent. He stepped inside sheepishly, feeling woozier and weaker with each step; his condition was worsening quicker than he'd anticipated.

Sifting through papers at his desk, Truman lifted his head, "Gene, glad you could finally join us, been looking all over for you. Y'know, four more people died today in your absence. How do you expect to save this town if you're not here?"

"Ed…" Gene started, rubbing his forehead.

"And your daughter took off, she's supposed to be helping search for a cure, anyone would think neither of you gave a damn about these people."

"That's enough, Ed, I know," Truman cocked his head with confusion, "I know you're the cause of the virus, I know about the oranges and I know you've got to have some antibiotics somewhere, you had cures for everything just a few months ago."

Gene hadn't felt this riled up in a long time, he was running out of time, "Please, Charlie's sick, I just need one cure, I'm willing to trade."

Ed's face twisted into a smug grin, "And what could you have that I'd possibly be interested in enough to give up some antibiotics for, Dr Porter?"

It was confirmed then; the Patriots did have a cure, which likely meant they had indeed started the virus. He couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking, and hoping, his daughter was crazy and making it all up. Now faced with the option of killing two birds with one stone, Gene wished someone would stop him, whatever he chose, he was going to lose his granddaughter, either her life or her love.

His heart felt like it was going to beat right out of his chest; he took in a sharp, shuddered breath, staring at his trembling hands before meeting Truman's gaze, "Sebastian Monroe… I've got Sebastian Monroe."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

**Whenever Gene does something we all know he shouldn't, I can't help but scream "No, Genie, noooo!" at the television, and now I can't stop calling him it, it's cute!**

**PIP**

* * *

Truman could hardly contain his mirth, letting out a quick, sharp chuckle, "I can see where Rachel gets her crazy from. Monroe is dead; you stuck the needle in yourself."

Gene shook his head, "It was a fixed injection, filled with barbiturates apparently. Dig the coffin up if you don't believe me," Truman's face hardened as the idea became more feasible in his mind, "Just be quick about it, I'm begging you."

Ed stood and walked outside to speak to the guards, shooing them away hastily before returning inside, "Alright Gene, we'll dig him up, and if you're telling the truth and he's not there, deliver him to us, or we'll have to come and get him."

A chill ran down Gene's spine as he thought of the carnage and bloodshed that was sure to ensue if they went looking for him, "And what about my granddaughter?"

Truman sat back behind his desk, now paying more attention to the mess of papers than to Gene, with no shortage of annoyance and even boredom on his face at the prospect of continuing their conversation, "If you bring him to us, you'll get your antibiotics."

Gene nodded solemnly, clenching his jaw, "I'll be in the lab tent if you need me."

The lab tent was pretty much as the name suggested, a laboratory in a tent, Rachel had been working tirelessly in here in search of a cure, books and little pieces of paper decorated with her handwriting were scattered around the room, along with chemicals and other suspicious liquids and there was an entire desk devoted to vials, petri dishes, needles and microscopes, the place was a mess of science.

Despite her lack of good sense and judgement, Gene was immensely proud of his daughter's intelligence, he had always encouraged her, even when she was busy bringing drummer boys and ninjas home, her textbooks served as her constant, never changing, never leaving, and always fascinating her.

Sure, she ended the world, but it took brains to do it! Now she was passed out drunk after spending days, and nights, trying to create a cure to typhus, and uncovering yet another Patriot plot in her spare time, sounded like an average weekend for someone like her.

The relentless work had kept her away from the men, thankfully. They'd been doing their own thing anyway, partaking in whatever they classed as 'bonding time' since they returned from Mexico. Charlie had been stuck in the middle, both parties wanting them with her, though her and Sebastian's tiff had her sticking a little closer to her mom and grandpa in recent days.

The men that had been sent to dig up the coffin were taking too long, the sun was beginning to rise, bringing a terrifically dehydrating heat with it, which did nothing to improve Gene's chilly sweats, fatigue was setting in and he desperately tried to keep his eyes open, not knowing if he'd wake up again otherwise.

He hadn't seen typhus for a long time but he knew its current progression was too rapid to be natural; it wouldn't surprise him if the Patriots had gone as far as making a completely new strain of the virus, something deadlier, quicker.

Trying to figure out the endgame was a headache and a half, they were letting too many people die to suddenly waltz in with a cure, was it an extermination? Why would they want to take out a town like Willoughby? Perhaps this was happening in other places… It was a frighteningly plausible thought; these guys were everywhere, after all.

Finally, the soldiers returned, looking dirtied and sweating from exertion, breaking the usual Patriot appearance of polished and respectable. Gene splashed some water over his face to liven up, he felt like death warmed over, there was no doubt he'd be looking rough too.

Back inside Truman's tent, he took a moment to delight in how small this tent was compared to his daughter's, the air was a stifling cocktail of sweat and death, it was nauseating, he hoped it lingered, hoped it would serve as a constant reminder for Truman of just what was going on outside the tent walls.

"Well, Gene, it looks like you're useful again. I'll give you two days to bring him in," yeah, if him and Charlie lived that long, "By allowing a criminal that had been sentenced to death to live, you and your family perverted the course of justice, I'd hate to see how that pans out should you fail."

The threat finally made Gene realise just how bad his idea was, not only was his granddaughter's life at risk, but now he'd put the rest of them in danger too. No surprises there though, really, his family was his pressure point and Truman knew this all too well.

The walk back to the barn was long and arduous, his body ached and his stomach had begun churning again. The sun was high in the sky when he eventually spotted the old, half-dilapidated structure.

Poor Gene had no chance to rest though as Monroe stalked up to him, a face like thunder, "Where the hell you been, gramps? Charlie's been chucking up for the past hour."

Gene felt his heart stop, leaving an empty, pained feeling in his chest, now they definitely didn't have much time. He began storming towards the barn, quickly losing his breath and slowing, "She's got typhus."

Bass caught up with him easily and tugged him back by the arm, "Whoa, hold up, typhus? The thing that's sweeping through town and killing everyone?" he couldn't hold back a concerned frown when Gene nodded, "That's not good."

The good doctor's patience was being pushed to the limit, he needed to see his granddaughter, he shrugged aggressively out of Monroe's grip, keeping his eyes trained on the barn doors, "No, it's not, where's Miles?"

"Scouting with Connor." Bass's mouth twitched with amusement at the thought of his son and his best friend working together.

"Go get him."

He scoffed, "Excuse me? I don't think so, I'm not leaving."

"Are you a doctor? No, I didn't think so; you're no good to anyone just sitting around here waiting for her to die." He regretted his words as soon as they tumbled out, he wasn't thinking straight.

Bass's lips parted with a silent gasp as the words registered in his head, Charlie couldn't really die, could she? He must be lying, just trying to get rid of him. He couldn't think of a retort quick enough and Gene shoved past him, slipping inside, leaving Bass with a heavy, pounding heart and feeling like he'd just had an argument with his parents… And lost spectacularly.

Inside, Rachel was leaning over a very pale and clammy Charlie, wiping her forehead with a damp cloth, "Dad, where were you?" she pulled him into a tight hug, "We were worried."

Any amount of affection from his daughter was a rare and wonderful thing, soon to become even rarer when she found out what he had done, he made the most of it and held her tighter, placing a delicate kiss to her head, "Don't worry about that. How you doing, kiddo?" he called over Rachel's shoulder.

Charlie shuffled up onto her elbows, offering him a weak and heart-breaking smile, "Hanging in there, grandpa, you ok?" she smiled again when he nodded, still holding his daughter close, neither of them needed to hear of his suffering.

A ruckus could be heard outside followed by Miles, Sebastian and Connor clambering in, interrupting the warm, heartfelt moment.

"Okay, who blabbed?" Miles's tone was serious, he rolled his eyes at their confused expressions, Gene felt his gut twist with knowing guilt, "I took the kid over to Bass's 'grave' an-"

Bass interrupted, "I seriously can't believe you took my son to see where I was buried!"

"Shut up. Get over it… Anyway, ended up watching a bunch of Patriots dig the coffin up, and they didn't look too surprised to find a bunch of rocks and dust inside. So, who the hell blabbed?"

The silence weighed heavy on all of them as they cast their minds back, had they said something? Given something away without realising? They couldn't have, they'd all been careful about keeping Monroe a secret, he was their secret weapon, they couldn't afford for him to be caught.

Bass watched each of them, looking for signs, for the nervous tics, and for a sad moment, he thought it might be Charlie; she had the motive after what had happened between them. Instead, he approached the elderly man who couldn't look him in the eye, "What about you, Genie? You never said where you've been all this time."

His silence was proof enough of his betrayal, he lifted his head bravely, "I'm not sorry," he heard Rachel and Charlie's joint gasps of shock, or perhaps it was disgust, "Handing you in will get Charlie some meds."

Miles shuffled to get a better look at his niece; finally realising that she wasn't looking too good.

Bass's gaze passed over Charlie briefly as she struggled to her feet, he nodded in understanding just as his son's voice piped up, "You slimy piece of sh-"

"Connor, stop, it's fine. I'll go." There was a mass shout of 'what?' parroted through the room, he shrugged, eyes fixed on the girl weakening before him, "If this is the only way to get a cure then so be it, I'm not gonna sit by and watch her die."

Propping herself up against a table, Charlie finally found the strength to speak, "If you go, they really will kill you this time."

He shrugged again, allowing himself a smile, "Better me than you."

Connor couldn't handle what he was listening to, choosing to storm out like a petulant child instead, closely followed by his father.

Those that were left behind had to find their own way to deal with their new problem, Rachel had no words, undecided on how she felt about everything, she wanted her daughter to live, of course, but her father had once again let them all down, it was becoming a habit of his and she couldn't help but wonder if it was safe to have him around.

Charlie wasn't as quiet in her convictions, "What the hell were you thinking? I tell you the guy saves my life and this is how you repay him?" she was having difficulty keeping herself up, "You need to fix this, I'd rather get a thousand diseases than have anyone die for me, even if the ass deserves it."

Tears stung her eyes, "I thought you were the normal one, grandpa, the person that had started staying away from all the stupid."

As Charlie continued to lay into Gene, outside, the Monroes were having a heated discussion of their own.

Connor paced back and forth, hands placed firmly on his hips, the flicking of his hair against the breeze gave him an overall feminine look, in any other circumstance, it would have been funny, "Why the hell would you let yourself die for her?!"

"Because she's family!" Bass didn't mean to sound so unhinged, shouting at his grown up kid probably wasn't going to win him any brownie points either, "She's important."

"Yeah? And what about me? Am I not important to you, _daddy_? And how exactly do you expect to run a Republic if you're dead?"

"Please tell me I'm old and my hearing's jacking up." Miles made them both jump as he rounded the corner, looking none too pleased with what he'd just heard.

Monroe Junior looked between the pair, anticipating the fight that was bound to ensue. Bass didn't move, keeping his eyes fixed on his old friend, "Miles."

"What's going on, Bass?" Miles didn't really know why he bothered asking, he knew exactly what was going on, he'd almost expected it but stupidly thought better of his friend, thinking he may have finally turned a corner.

Bass turned to his son, his words more for him than for Miles, "Nothing, nothing's going on," he began to walk back towards the doors, "Not anymore."

Without warning, Miles grabbed Bass's shirt and slammed him up against the barn wall, making quick work of sending a fist flying into his nose. "You don't get to walk away from me, you're gonna tell me, right now, what the hell is going on inside your head?!"

Bass gripped his face, coughing up the blood that was now rushing out of his nose and down his throat, "Alright, fine. But you're not gonna like it," he shoved Miles off of him, his face a mix between a grimace and a smirk, spitting out the metallic-tasting liquid into the grass, he continued, "We were going to take the Republic back, think how easy it'd be to get rid of these Patriots with our thousands, no, our hundreds of thousands of men fighting them."

"I wanted something for my kid to have, something to carry on with when I'm gone, which turns out is going to be sooner than expected. It wouldn't have been like last time, you and Charlie would've made sure of that."

Miles straightened, "Charlie... Does she know?" he chuckled at Bass's telling eyes, "Well that explains why she's been avoiding you. The Republic's dead, Bass, you've gotta accept that it's not coming back."

"We built it up from nothing, we can do it again."

Connor butted in, "Not if you're dead you can't." he was ignored, as usual, as they did their whole talking-with-their-eyes thing. It wasn't too bad when it was Miles and his dad, but whenever Charlie joined in, he couldn't help but roll his eyes, it was weirdly awkward to watch.

Before they could continue, Rachel crying out Charlie's name from inside drew their attention.

Bass was the first to charge in, finding Charlie passed out on the floor with Gene and Rachel huddled over her frail body, checking pulse points and her breathing through their tears and sniffles. He nestled himself between them and scooped her up, delicately putting her back down on the sofa she had been using before.

He stroked her hair back from her damp face and checked her pulse himself, needing to be sure. She was alive, that was all he could gather for now, how long she'd remain that way was the pressing question, he hadn't seen her this weak since she had been drugged in the bar that night, it felt like a lifetime ago. He looked over to Gene, saddened to see that gramps wasn't looking too hot himself, he looked like he could fall at any minute.

"I think it's time to go get those meds now, Gene."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

***Peaks from behind pillow.* Please don't kill me, Tuesdays are my busiest work days, I was exhausted!**

**Not sure I like the ending to this chapter but if I didn't end it where I have, I wouldn't have got it on here before tonight's episode, plus it would've ended up as a six or seven thousand word chapter, which is something I have difficulty biting into.**

**Thank you for the reviews, sorry to hear about the bad weather across the pond (I love that expression.), wish I could send our unseasonably warm(ish) January breeze your way, we're waiting for the snow and subsequent school/work closures!**

**Love and warm hugs to all, OH! And enjoy tonight's Revolution, my story is probably completely inaccurate, but I live in hope that they will kill Truman off soon... Because, y'know, he's a prat.**

**PIP**

* * *

It had been hours since Charlie collapsed, and she hadn't woken up since. Not a peep or twitch, the only way any of them could tell she was still alive was whenever she broke out in a cold sweat or if they watched the scarily irregular rise and fall of her chest.

There was a worry that Gene wouldn't last much longer either, he'd been vomiting a lot and it was dark by the time he felt okay-ish enough to move and even then, it was hit or miss whether or not he'd actually make it down to the Patriot camp without collapsing.

Miles came up with the notion that it would be safer if he went with them, an extra pair of hands if things went south and someone to help Gene get back. At that, Rachel pitched in, of course, putting her foot down and insisting that he was her father; she should be the one by his side, all manner of betrayal being forgotten as he got weaker.

There was another problem though; leaving Charlie on her own was certainly out of the question, so who would be staying behind to look after her?

"Connor'll stay," the kid raised a challenging eyebrow at his dad, silently sending a 'hell no' look his way, "Maybe it'll teach him some valuable life lessons about the importance of family."

The whole situation was insanely frustrating, he had only just been united with his father, and he'd even started to care about the guy, but now he was going to lose him and what would Connor be doing during his dad's final hour? Babysitting. How pathetic, he should be there, saving his ass. Still, he was outnumbered.

With everything decided, there were just some last-minute things to sort out before setting off, Bass took the opportunity to say goodbye. Rachel was hovering over Charlie, whispering words of hope and love in her daughter's ear, he wanted to scoff, call her out on never giving a damn about Charlie until she was dying, but it probably wasn't the time to rattle cages.

Bass squatted beside them, his eyes fixed on Charlie's peaceful face, she didn't look ill, he tried to convince himself she was just sleeping, "Rach, could you maybe give us a minute?" Rachel stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment before giving a quick nod and leaving them alone.

The temptation to hold her hand was too much, she was cold and a little clammy but he didn't care, at least she was still alive, "Hey, Charlie," tears sprung to his eyes, his chuckle sounded more like a sigh, "I don't know what I'm doing, I don't even know if you can hear me… Look, you don't owe me anything, I know that, but please… Give me this one thing, don't die."

There was pressure around his hand, the slightest squeeze, it gave him hope that she may have heard him, that she was still hanging on. He brought her hand to his lips, laying a gentle, chaste kiss across her knuckles, "Goodbye, Charlotte."

A shuffling behind him broke the moment; he stood and turned to find his son watching him. Walking over, he held out his hand, "Look after her, you two might actually make a good team someday," Connor took his hand and pulled him into an awkward half hug, "Take care of yourself, kid."

Taking one last look back at Charlie, Bass made his way outside and ushered the others onward, picking up his sword and new jacket for the journey, he was thankful to Connor for stealing the jacket for him, the nights were getting colder and he'd been in need of some new clothes for a while. Plus, he couldn't help but feel super bad ass in leather, it reminded him of his motor biking days.

Gene was practically dragging himself through the fields but stubbornly turned down offers of help, not feeling like he deserved their kindness. Bass stayed close by the old man's side, attempting to make small talk until the Patriot site came into view, "Y'know, I'm more than happy to die saving Charlie… But now would be a really good time to tell me if I'm being Punk'd or something."

The encampment appeared almost empty, save for a few patrols, most of the men must've been in their bunks, but they snuck in as stealthily as they could all the same, suspecting a trap. When it came time for the pairs to part, Miles opened his arms wide, expecting a hug or something close, but was rebuked.

"Don't get soft on me now, brother, we've done all this before." Bass's words stung a little, but there was no time to reflect as Rachel suddenly started running towards her tent and Gene tugged Bass over to Truman's.

Miles, of course, chased after Rachel, "What are you doing?"

"I think I've got an idea." She mumbled quickly, her attention focused completely on the scientific equipment in front of her.

"What, now?!" Miles was ignored, left to pace back and forth around her while she got busy.

Outside Truman's tent, Bass prepared himself for whatever was about to happen, remembering that this was for Charlie. Ducking through the tent flaps, he felt his body shake with unexpected fury as he laid eyes on the man that had made her ill, had had him arrested and sentenced to death, it took all of Bass's strength not to send a knife through the asswipe's neck.

Ed wasn't expecting the intrusion and, for a brief moment, panicked, "Jesus."

Bass sharply sucked in some air through clenched teeth, "Yeah, not quite, pal. Look, I'm here now, you got me, so give the man his meds."

Remembering the agreement he had made with Porter the day before, Truman leaned back in his chair with a smug grin, "What makes you think I've got them?"

"You son-of-a-" Gene started as Rachel jumped inside, practically leaping the few steps to Truman's desk and smacking him upside the head with a bucket, rendering him unconscious. Miles came tumbling in a heartbeat or so later, being a little late to notice she had disappeared while he had his back turned.

Rachel grabbed Truman from under his arms, pulling him and the chair back, "Someone probably heard that, we should get moving," her eyes shot to Bass expectantly, "Grab his legs."

He stared at her like she had just asked him to marry her before coming to his senses, blinking away his confusion and obediently scooping Ed's legs up, "Yeah… Sure."

"This was your idea, are you insane?" Miles blocked their path as they tried to shuffle out, stuffing his hands on his hips out of frustration.

Rachel cocked an unimpressed eyebrow, exchanging glances with everyone, "It's been suggested. Move."

He shook his head, "You can't just walk out of here with a body!"

"Actually," Gene finally found his voice, "They've been dragging the dead out a back exit for days."

Running out of arguments, Miles stepped aside, throwing his jacket over Truman's face to conceal his identity. Gene slipped them out of the camp with ease; their final destination was unknown though, with Rachel seemingly pushing in a random direction.

In reality, she had her heart set on an old bunker in the woods, she remembered that bunker fondly, it was one of her many hideouts when she was experimenting as a teenager. The moonlight was scarce beneath the trees but she knew the track well and the dark, stone walls soon became a vaguely visible silhouette.

She let the boys handle Truman as she cranked the creaky, steel door open and crept downstairs, sparking up a lighter as she went. A fleeting moment of joy swept through her upon seeing everything exactly how she left it, albeit a little dustier.

There was a mass of candles on every surface, this place had lost electricity long before the blackout and Rachel had always preferred candlelight, she started lighting them, illuminating the room fully. Posters of her favourite bands and inspirational people decorated the walls, books were scattered across the floor, along with pillows and chairs and blankets.

The shelves were littered with candles and incense sticks, and an old cassette player lay in one corner of the room, surrounded by tapes, there were so many memories here, good and bad. Rachel found herself smiling as she knocked over several empty beer bottles, such good times.

"This, uhh, this is nice… What is this?" Miles's voice broke her daydreaming; she turned to face him, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile.

"I suppose this was my version of a treehouse," she pulled a chair into view, "Put him on here, tie him up."

Bass and Miles dropped Ed less than delicately into the chair, it squeaked under his weight, "With what exactly?" again, the hint of a smile passed over her features as she ducked her head into a cabinet and pulled out a long, thick rope, Miles looked at her quizzically, "Just what the hell did you get up to in here?!"

Rachel ignored him, leaving him guessing with a smirk, she couldn't say anything, not while her dad was here!

Frowning and blinking away the haze, Truman tried to remember what had just happened… Dr Porter… Monroe… He'd been about to double cross them… He vaguely recalled seeing Rachel Matheson, then there was nothing.

There were voices; he struggled to move to investigate, finding his hands tied behind him, his legs were tied too, if he planned on going anywhere, the chair would be coming with him. Blurry vision cleared enough to make out a mass of long, blonde hair coming towards him; there was a pull and a pinch on his neck.

"Wakey-wakey, Eddy." Rachel Matheson was leaning on his knees, smiling, actually smiling at him! Though, her smiles were never a good thing. His eyes went wide at the sight of her waving a needle around, "I don't have much time, and now neither do you, so tell me where I can find the cure."

"Wh-What's going on? What did you do to me?" She stepped back, allowing room for his little tantrum as he tugged at his restraints violently, "What did you do?!"

Gene stepped closer to his daughter, looking like hell with a voice to match, "She injected you with infected blood, Ed," his saddened gaze glided over Rachel, he was disappointed in her course of action, and admittedly a little scared, "If you tell us where the antibiotics are, we can save you."

Bass scoffed behind them, the first cure he got his hands on was going straight to Charlie, they should let the guy rot. Still, he held his hands up in silent apology at everyone's angered glares; apparently he was the only one thinking like that.

With his death looming over him, Truman saw no other way out other than to trust the very people he'd been trying desperately to get rid of, he still had work to do, he wasn't ready to die yet, "There's a limited supply in the old school basement."

The old school, where Miles almost died, where Bass and Charlie slaughtered soldiers in fantastic synchronisation, where Aaron threw a Patriot BBQ, great, because they were all so eager to go back there.

Remembering that they were in a race against time, Bass walked over, "Good, thank you very much, Ed, this was almost pleasant." He crashed his fist into Truman's face a little harder than what would've been necessary, once again knocking him out, he turned to Miles, "Let's go."

"Did you have to do that?" Gene piped up, it made Bass smile, he could see where Charlie got her misguided compassion from.

"You need to sort your priorities out, old man, you and your granddaughter are dying, along with half your town, and you're worried about _him. _After everything he's done, I should be cutting his throat open."

He didn't stick around to endure the awkward silence, breaking into a run in the rough direction of the school, everything was harder in the dark and he found himself crashing into a fair few branches, mumbling incoherent cuss words as he went. Miles caught up with him just as the gentle glow of Willoughby came into view, the school wasn't far now.

Back in the barn, a once reluctant Connor was wiping the sweat away from Charlie's furrowed brow; her breathing had become dangerously irregular and harsh a little while before. Just because they didn't get on didn't mean he was completely heartless towards her, he certainly didn't want her to die. He'd seen the way his dad looked at her, if he could care about her then Connor could too, at least until she was back to her usual sarcastic self.

The school appeared empty apart from the charred bodies scattered around the place. Bass and Miles explored the ground floor, seeking out the basement door, until they rounded a corner and came upon two Patriot soldiers guarding an aged, metal door.

Instinct kicked in for the pair and there wasn't much of a scuffle before the Patriots were dead on the floor, Bass smiled, feeling like he had Charlie back at his side once more.

"Just two guys. Man, they're getting sloppy!" Miles admonished as he opened the door, Bass grabbed the torch the soldiers had been using, and slipped down into the darkness after his friend.

The basement was more of a spacious boiler room with stacks of broken chairs and tables stored away in corners, there was a single crate in the middle of everything, Miles and Bass exchanged glances, "Well, that's not suspicious at all."

It took a while to pry the box open without a crowbar; they had to make do with a bit of broken table leg, once they were in, they were left a little disappointed. Mixed in with the hay were some vials of what they hoped was the antidote and a box of needles, but there was a problem: "I count six." Bass mumbled, sifting through the hay, it was obviously enough to save Charlie and Gene, but it would do nothing for the townspeople.

"Jeez, he wasn't kidding when he said 'limited supply'!" Bass stuffed what he needed into his pockets; "I've got what I need for Charlie, think you'll be okay on your own?" he was practically dancing with eagerness to get going, "Miles?"

"Yeah, gimme a minute." He lifted the crate somewhat awkwardly; his hand was still giving him a bit of grief. They walked out of the school together, the light of dawn provided one man with relief and the other with worry, they separated with a nod, rushing off in opposite directions.

Bass made it back to the barn in record time, panting heavily and barely able to stand from exhaustion, he almost fell through the doors, taking Connor by surprise, "What the hell? You're alive?!"

"Yeah," Bass chuckled breathlessly, "Happy birthday, merry Christmas, whatever, how is she?"

Connor took a look back at Charlie and frowned, "Not good."

He watched his father fumble around trying to set the needle up properly, and growling with frustration when he couldn't get it sorted, "Connor, you're gonna have to do it, my hands are shaking too much."

Connor backed away, holding his hands out and shaking his head, "No, I'm not great with needles."

"Just do it!" Bass snapped, heart ready to burst out of his chest, he took in a deep, calming breath, "Please? I… I can't."

Rolling his eyes, Connor snatched up the injection, fiddling with it a little before hovering it over a random spot on Charlie's neck, he took a deep breath, preparing himself and wincing as the thin metal tube made its way through her tender skin, he watched the clear liquid disappear as he pushed down on the syringe.

Once it was empty, he tugged it out as gently as he could, brushing away a droplet of blood that had been left in its place. He turned to his dad, the man looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack, "Did it work?"

Bass cocked his head, "Do I look like a goddamn boffin? I don't know, we'll have to wait for the others to get back."

He picked up a damp rag and began stroking Charlie's neck and face, it had better work, otherwise Truman would have a lot more to worry about than typhus!

Miles arrived back at the bunker just in the nick of time, or perhaps not, Gene had collapsed a little while ago but was still conscious, he smiled weakly at his daughter, bringing a hand up to her tear-stained face as Miles jabbed the antibiotics into his arm, "So… Proud of you."

His hand fell to the floor as his eyes closed. "D-Dad? Dad?!" Rachel shook him, "No, you can't go falling asleep now," she shook him again, harder, "Dad, you've got the cure now… You can't… Don't you dare leave me!" once the tears started, there was no stopping them, she sobbed against his chest as Truman looked on, an ugly smile spread wide across his face.

Miles saw it, it sent a burning rage straight to his chest, he attacked, unleashing hell through his fists against Truman's face over and over again.

After what felt like an eternity, exhausted from crying so much, Rachel snuggled her face harder against Gene's chest when a familiar thumping resonated against her cheek, she sat back, mouth agape.

"Miles…," there was no answer, only angry grunts, it was only then that she realised he was still beating on Truman, "Miles! He's alive, dad's still alive."

Miles finally stopped, turning to face her, she couldn't hold back a gasp at the sight of his bloody hands, and Ed's mutilated face, "What? Rach-"

She recognised the look he was giving her, "No. I'm not crazy, he's got a heartbeat, I felt it. He's alive!"

"Well… Good, can we move him?" Rachel paused, looking over Gene a few times before nodding cautiously, "We can't stay here," Miles turned back to Truman and pointed, "He can, but it'll be safer for us back at the barn."

Rachel nodded again as she stood and grabbed her father's legs, watching his face intently for any signs of pain, she couldn't believe he was alive. Miles followed suit and picked him up under the arms, they began struggling their way up the steps as Truman started yelling after them, "What are you doing?! You can't leave me here! Hey!"

Outside, they placed Gene delicately on the leafy floor for a moment, smirking a little at each other as Rachel slammed the door, silencing Ed's pathetic cries.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

**Okay, time for my sob story! Someone left work, I've been doing a lot of cover shifts and training a newbie.**

**That last episode left me disheartened, and annoyed. I don't know, something just doesn't feel right about season two: part two, think I'm pretty much just watching for the snippets of Charloe and David Lyons, he's perfect for my hormones. I needed a couple of days to get my arse in gear again, I was pretty tipsy whilst writing a part of this, can you guess which bit? Alcohol is my creativity juice when work/life threatens to suffocate my imagination, don't judge me!**

**What did you think of the last episode? I'm looking forward to the next one...**

**PIP**

* * *

It was cold. The air was stale and sweaty, and nauseatingly heavy in her lungs. Her hand was numb, painfully so, something was crushing it; she tried to wiggle her fingers when the pressure tightened, "Charlie… Can you hear me?" she knew that voice, remembered who it belonged to, it made her want to open her eyes, she wanted to see his face, needed to see his eyes.

Despite the room being dim with candlelight, the gentle glow still burned her blurry vision. She panicked for a moment when all she could see was his shadowy outline; she blinked furiously until her eyes focused on his concerned features, his blue eyes looking brighter than ever even in near darkness.

She smiled weakly at him, "Hey."

"Hey," concern turned to joy at hearing her voice again, "Welcome back. You scared me, thought you were a goner for a while there."

"You were scared? I was the one that was dying!" Charlie's face paled, turning serious when she remembered she wasn't the only one that was ill, "Grandpa?"

Bass nodded to the other side of the barn where Gene was sleeping, "He's fine, he's resting.", Rachel and Miles had made it back the day before, leaving the Monroes with questions as to what had happened to Truman, questions that were answered with either silence or smirks that got Bass's back up, he didn't like not being in the loop but he wasn't prepared to leave Charlie's side to go and investigate.

Charlie realised that the reason her hand felt weird was because Bass was holding it, she was a little taken aback by the uncharacteristic sweetness but was more surprised by herself, she should be squirming away and knocking his teeth out, she was still ticked off about the plan to rebuild the Republic, however, his little 'I'll die for you' mission had softened the hate a little, just a little, enough to allow themselves a moment.

"You don't seem all that surprised to see me not dead." He helped her into a sitting position, finally releasing her hand to grab her a flask of water.

Nodding with thanks, she took a long sip, her throat felt like she'd been eating sawdust! The water was soothing but did nothing for her pounding head, she kept drinking anyway, wishing it was something stronger, "Nah, it's not as cool the second time round."

Humour and sarcasm, yes, Charlie was most definitely on the mend!

Gene's coughing in the corner startled them, Charlie stood up too quickly and began wobbling uneasily, immediately Bass's hands were around her waist to steady her, she found herself leaning against his chest for a moment, mesmerised by his rapid heartbeat pounding against her temple.

Once the room had stopped spinning and her legs weren't threatening to give out, she stepped out of his embrace, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks. Another cough from her grandpa refocused her, she knelt beside him, smoothing her hand through his hair, he was halfway between being asleep and just about conscious.

Not taking her eyes off him, her voice was barely above a whisper to avoid waking him, "I thought you said he was okay, he looks like hell."

Bass sighed, vaguely understanding and being able to empathise with her, he'd been the same with her, and with Miles many times before, "These things affect people differently, he's had the cure, don't worry, he's not gonna die or anything."

He bit the inside of his cheek, realising how bad that sounded out loud and feeling doubly stupid when she glared at him over her shoulder, he made a mental note to at least attempt to think before he spoke, or perhaps just stop speaking altogether, constantly sniping and being sniped at was tiring after all.

Another coughing fit woke Gene up completely, he grabbed nervously at the hand that was stroking his head, fearing an attack, before calming down and realising it was his granddaughter, alive and seemingly well, "Charlie, you're ok!"

She beamed down at him as his eagerness and excitement made him cough once more, "Yeah, so are you, I think." She took a glance back at Bass who, seconds later, reading her mind, passed her the water.

He watched awkwardly as she nursed Gene, unsure of what to do with himself. He began taking steps towards the exit, mumbling that he was going to go find the rest of their little group. Charlie wanted to stop him, wanted to stay in their bubble, but reasoned that there were more important things going on.

Surprisingly, Connor was the first one to come down, sending a brief grin her way, something she struggled to reciprocate, choosing to nod instead, nodding was always a winner. He sat where she had been resting and began picking at dirt on his trousers, she found herself giggling unexpectedly at his awkwardness, temporarily defusing the tension.

His gaze shot up at the strange and weirdly pleasant sound, smiling anxiously, "What?"

"You, you're so weird." Realising that that was probably the closest he'd get to a compliment from her, Connor laughed appreciatively.

He wanted to risk having a conversation with her, they were probably going to be around each other for a while, she must have moments where she wanted to hang around with someone her own age, he certainly did, being surrounded by forty-somethings and over got a bit dull.

"How's the old guy?"

Charlie smiled, holding her grandpa's hand, "Alive."

"And awake enough to give you a clap around the ear if you call me 'old' again." Gene struggled out through another coughing fit.

Moments later, Rachel and Miles waltzed in together, Charlie stood to move out of the way as her mom smothered Gene with overwhelming amounts of concern, but found herself dizzy once more. In an instant, Connor's hands were on her, holding her the same way his father had not long before.

They paused for a moment, Charlie struggled to stop herself shivering as he brought his hand up to her neck, nudging her hair away and frowning at the purple bruise that had surrounded the injection area, "How's your neck feeling? I jabbed you pretty hard."

She shuffled back, confusion riddling her features, "What are you talking about?"

"The meds, I gave you the injection." _Him, not Bass._ Connor couldn't help but feel a little hurt at her disappointed expression, Charlie didn't even know why she felt so disheartened, at the end of the day, she was alive! "Y'know, a 'thank you' would be nice."

Hearing his father's words again sent a chill down her spine, she suddenly felt nauseous again. Shaking away the urge to tackle him, she looked to the floor, the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but him, "Yeah… Thanks, I owe you one."

Her gaze landed on Bass who was staring at them from the stairs, pushing past Connor, she made her way outside, face made of stone as she passed him.

"_What did you do now?"_ She heard Miles mumble from inside, followed by footsteps coming up behind her, whoever it was wasn't talking, she left them there, walking off across the dark fields alone towards Willoughby, she needed a drink.

Thanks to the typhus outbreak, the town was virtually void of life, it made sneaking around easier but it saddened her to see a once thriving community seem so dead. Even her favourite watering hole was struggling, with just a few daring people taking the risk of going out.

Sticking with family tradition, she asked for some whiskey, keeping her head low as some already inebriated Patriot soldiers stumbled in, she wasn't in any fit state to be getting into fights. Remembering to sip, not chug, her attention was drawn to the soldier's conversation, something about Truman's disappearance, a replacement and a search party heading down from DC, there was mention of an ex-Militia soldier but, annoyingly, they couldn't remember his name.

After several more drinks and listening in on far too many boring conversations, the tingly warm phase of drunkenness swept over her. She nodded to herself, smiling; now she could go home.

The alcohol did nothing against the cold of the night; she giddily cursed herself for not picking up her jacket before taking off, more worryingly, she had neglected to pick up a weapon, just because the town was empty, didn't mean there wasn't someone waiting to attack. Still, she felt safer once she was back in the fields, it would be near impossible for anyone to sneak up to her without her noticing.

It was as she was thinking this that Bass stepped out from behind a tree. She jumped, startled by his sudden appearance, however, after a few awkward seconds, she giggled, "Damn, you're getting good at that!"

She stumbled toward the tree, mimicking the way he was leaning against it, she pouted at his 'frowny face', "You're drunk."

"How very…," Charlie bit her lip to stop from giggling again, unsuccessfully, "Observant of you."

Feeling awkward under his disapproving gaze, she began picking at the loose bark on the tree until he reached up and tugged her hand away, "Stop it. You're still in recovery mode; your body can't hand-"

"God! You have no idea how much you sound like my mom!" she rolled her eyes, "I almost died, I'm allowed a little fun."

He stepped closer, closing the already tiny gap between them, she wondered if she should tell him intimidation only works if the person doing it is actually scary, "You can have fun later. Right now, we've got a war to fight."

Charlie scoffed, "No, you've got a war to fight, _General_." She didn't mean for it to roll off her tongue so seductively, it just did. She swung herself around to the other side of the tree, hiding from him. Bass's lips twitched a little with the hint of a smirk at her childishness, he followed her around, landing his hands against the wood on both sides of her head, boxing her in.

The way he was hovering so close to her made her heart skip, and he had that damn smirk plastered across his face! "Are you really still mad at me for that, Charlotte?"

She cocked her head to the side, seriously considering his question, was she? No, not right now anyway, maybe in the morning…

Bass's smile grew as her eyes gave her away, "Didn't think so," he twiddled a strand of her hair between his fingers, his hand lingering dangerously close to her chest, his eyes took on a dark look, "They almost killed you, they've gotta pay."

Charlie's head was spinning with contrasting thoughts and feelings, drinking so much seemed like a really stupid idea now.

To hell with it, she pushed herself off the tree, wrapped her hands around his neck and let their lips crash together. Lost in the moment, he pushed her back against the tree, revelling in the feel of her body against his, before breaking away and stepping back, "We can't," her eyes demanded an explanation, "Miles is watching," again, disappointed and requiring an explanation, he shrugged, "My spidey-senses are tingling, alright?" Something was certainly tingling.

She smiled, "You have some serious identity issues, Batman," it was his turn to raise his eyebrows in silent questioning, "What? I was five, I remember things! But seriously, how'd you know?"

Looking around, he searched for the concealed Miles, his eyes were sad, "Your uncle's always watching me, Charlie, I've got a reputation for being a bit of an ass, didn't you know?" they chuckled, walking back to the barn together.

She started to shiver as she told him about what she'd heard in the bar, Bass shrugged out of his jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders as he quizzed her further. Pulling it tighter around her, Charlie got a sniff of the scent that was inherently Bass, a cocktail of sweat, liquor, leather and something fragrant, she was too tired to enquire though.

When they crept less-than-quietly inside, Bass couldn't hold back a frustrated grunt at finding his son snoozing in Charlie's normal spot, she tugged him back from waking the kid up, "Leave him, I'll just sleep on the floor." She whipped around to where Miles normally slept and rolled her eyes, he was indeed missing, how very subtle.

Bass shot her an apologetic look as they sat down together, rolling their blankets out next to one another, she tried to hand him his jacket back but he shook his head, "Keep it, use it as a pillow or something."

She did, lying down and burying her face into it. Peeking her eyes open, she covered her mouth to desperately stop herself from laughing at Bass staring at her from a gap in his blanket, she poked at a random part of his body through the blanket as he began shaking with silent laughter.

It wasn't long after they whispered their goodnights that Charlie drifted off, letting the alcohol have its final desired effect. Bass watched her, as always, her rhythmic breathing soothed him, serving as a reminder that she really was just sleeping this time; she was going to be okay. It helped him accept his own need to sleep a little easier.

He didn't get to rest long though when he received a sharp kick to the back, his eyes blinked away the drowsy confusion, looking to Charlie, she was still asleep, still breathing, still safe, he looked to the small, grimy window, it was almost light out.

He thought for a moment that perhaps he dreamed the rude awakening when a shuffling brought him right back into the moment, his hand braced around the knife he kept tucked away on his person at all times. Rolling over, he frowned at Miles standing over him, silently mouthing 'what' so as not to wake anyone, Miles motioned towards the doors before walking out.

Pushing himself to his feet, Bass grunted, his body aching from the cold, hard floor. Going outside didn't make him feel much better either; he wasn't a morning person, especially when those mornings were cold.

Miles scratched at the back of his neck, not being able to meet his friend's tired gaze, "So… You and Charlie."

This was not a conversation Bass wanted to bite into this early in the day; he doubted Miles would let it go so easily though, "What about us?"

"Look, I've never cared about who you screw, but Charlie, really? You can't go there, man."

Bass got a nasty taste in his mouth at the idea of 'screwing' Charlie, like she was a piece of meat, one of the girls he'd picked up in New Vegas; his friend's vulgarity really was poorly placed. "It was one kiss, alright? Not a marriage proposal, you've done a hell of a lot worse when you've been drinking."

Miles shook his head, smirking at memories of all his crazy drunken escapades, "Just be careful, yeah?", they both knew it wouldn't just be Miles beating on him if something went wrong, Charlie was capable of looking after herself too.

Readjusting his sword belt, Miles began to walk away.

"Hey, where you going?" Bass asked, frowning with curiosity.

Turning around and walking backwards, Miles tossed his hands in the air, "Lot of hungry people in there, gonna go find some food."

Bass laughed, patting his stomach, "Yeah? There's a hungry person right here too!"

He watched as his friend slipped from sight in the long grass before ducking back inside with a smile, that went better than expected, there was no blood or bruising, no broken limbs, it was a pretty calm conversation, for once!

Then there was that kiss… His tongue darted across his lips subconsciously, wanting to taste her again. He shook his head as he lay back down, it was a one-off, they wouldn't be risking it again, he was marginally sure of that, Miles took it well, it didn't mean anyone else would.

Still, despite telling himself a firm 'no', thoughts of Charlie lingered in his mind as he drifted off once more.

* * *

A lot had happened in the days that followed Charlie's night out, Gene was finally back on his feet and getting that shave he'd been wanting, the Patriots were beginning to act a little more normal without a slave driving leader and having a docile second-in-command certainly helped, however, there was news:

"New batch of Patriots coming in from the Capital today," Miles panted, having run all the way from town, "Some of their wagons have already arrived."

They all glanced at one another, some were fearful; others were feeling a little exasperated at the thought of taking on more Patriots, the first bunch worked so well, after all! Charlie and Connor were the first ones to offer their services, which, of course, gave Bass reason to join in, generations one and two of Matheson and Monroe, working together; it was too good to pass up.

The little band of fighters snuck onto the rooftop of a building opposite where the new recruits were stationed at. Breaking out their trusty binoculars, Connor was the first to get a peek, "Lots of weapons… Bunch of average Joes."

He passed the binoculars over to Charlie, nudging her arm in the process; she frowned at the contact before taking a look, her frown deepened as she refocused on a particular individual, "Crap."

"What?" The trio of men asked in unison, heads bobbing from her to the circus going on below them and back to her.

She turned to face Bass, "Y'know the other night, I told you those guys at the bar were talking about some high-ranking ex-Militia guy?" he cocked his head, trying to remember, was that before or after their kiss? "I think it's Neville."

He grabbed the binoculars and began searching determinedly, "Well hell," he pulled his head back, turning to Miles, "I can't say I didn't expect it, soon as Tom gets a whiff of something to better himself, he goes for it."

There was a collective sigh of frustration at the new development, when Miles had himself a brilliant light bulb pinging moment, "Hang on… He might actually be useful, for once. Now we've got someone on the inside."

Walking back, they began plotting and planning, thinking of ways to utilise Neville's unique little skill set.

Once they hit the fields, the storm that had been lingering over Willoughby all day suddenly came to life, drowning them and making visibility difficult, Charlie was fuming, she had been tracking a bunch of new sets of footprints for the past half an hour and the rain was washing them away.

She soon found out just who the tracks belonged to though when a gang of bandits jumped them out of nowhere. The sounds of swords clashing, yelling and fighting echoed against the rain, Charlie took out a scrawny looking man fairly easily but she was taken off-guard by a guttural cry behind her.

Whipping around, she found a large man staring at her with blood pouring out of his mouth and a sword sticking out of his chest. The sword sliced away and she waited for the body to fall, her mouth dropped when her saviour was revealed to once again be Connor.

He smiled at her gobsmacked expression, "Now you owe me two!"

With the rest of the bandits sorted, Miles and Bass came upon the scene with concern, watching the pair as they laughed and ran off through the downpour together. Miles chuckled breathlessly, "Damn, your own kid is cockblocking you!"

Bass sheathed his sword aggressively, "Shut up."

The rain had stopped by the time they all got back; Charlie darted inside to dry off, quickly followed by Miles and almost Connor, until his dad tugged him back, "What d'ya think you're doing? You haven't got time to be messing round with the ladies." He was screaming 'hypocrite' in his head.

Connor put on his favourite smug grin, "I saved her life, no biggie."

Bass squared up to him, a habit he really needed to quit, his son was just that little bit taller than him, it was embarrassing, "No, big biggie. You wanna be a leader, you can't afford any distractions."

"Oh, but you can, apparently," Bass frowned, feeling a little less confident, "I've seen the way you look at her. You really think she'd go for someone like you? You're old enough to be her dad!"

His father smiled knowingly, deciding not to reveal what had happened a few nights before, he and Charlie had agreed to keep it their little secret. But the temptation to put his kid in his place was tempting. Admittedly, he did feel a little jealous but there was no love or care in his son's eyes, the kid was obviously just looking for a good lay, something he wouldn't be getting from Charlie anytime soon.

"We'll see." He mumbled, not being one to let a challenge go.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

**Sleepy PIP strikes again!**

**Enjoy, and goodnight. (Face/desk)**

**PIP**

* * *

Bass couldn't stop a chuckle escaping his lips as he watched his son traipse up to him with a small bunch of flowers, he wondered for a moment just where he'd got them from, before following Connor's gaze over to where Charlie was aggressively trying to get blood out of her favourite top, he smiled, dropping an apple he'd been cleaning into a basket full of them.

"Kid, you really don't know her at all if you're thinking of giving her them."

Connor was straight-faced, feeling confident. He'd been around a lot of women in his short life, he knew what they wanted, "Girls like flowers."

Not bothering to hide his amusement, Bass watched the scene play out. Connor swished his way over with all the cockiness a Monroe could muster, and set the bouquet down in her wet hands, she smiled and held them up to smell them, for a dreadful moment, Bass's heart lurched, thinking he'd sorely misjudged her personality.

He was put at ease though once Connor had disappeared and she dropped the flowers to the leafy floor, confusion plaguing her features for a brief moment before she swiftly refocused on the washing. How anyone could think she was someone who'd be interested in grand romantic gestures was beyond him, he knew her better than anybody, she was a fighter, anything that wasn't necessary to survival was briskly pushed aside.

It was a little sad, really. Bass could see where his son was coming from, most women did appreciate flowers and jewellery and picnics and other pretty things, but Charlie wasn't like most women, in another time, he probably would have given her those things, maybe she would've liked them. But now, there was no chance.

Shoving the basket of fruit under his arm, he made his way over, raising a questioning eyebrow at the flowers lying on the floor, she didn't look up, didn't need to, "Your son's idea of getting in my good books."

The breeze waved the hair away from her face, revealing the top half of her body to be soaked through from scrubbing and washing so vigorously, her cheeks were pink from effort.

"Y'know," Bass adjusted the basket for comfort, "I think he might be trying to woo you."

Charlie looked up to him then, squinting a little as the sun shone just to the side of his head, he moved to put her in shadow, graciously granting her her vision again, her lips quirked, "You serious? The dude couldn't 'woo' a donkey. You sure he's your son?"

Bass smiled at the hidden compliment, reaching into the basket, "Here, breakfast." She caught the red, shiny apple with precision, taking every opportunity to remind him of her 'warrior' status.

Eyeing the fruit suspiciously for a moment, her face was a blend of confusion and cheer, "You trying to woo me too, Bass?"

"I don't need to, _Charlotte_." He was smug as he reminded her that it was her that came onto him in the first place. He changed the subject, pleased that he'd made her blush, "I've been thinking, Miles is gonna try and get Tom on side, which will be a lot easier if I'm not here. I met someone in New Vegas," Charlie felt her stomach twist, "She's got herself a sizeable clan, definitely a good ally to have."

There was a pause, "So, what d'ya say? Road trip part two?"

Charlie's head snapped up, "You want me to come with you?" they hadn't had a proper adventure together in a while, he gave her stiff half nod, "Why?"

This wasn't about getting ahead of his son, or about 'wooing' Charlie, this was a purely selfish act of self-preservation on his part, "The place is a cesspit, it pulled me in once, can't let that happen again," he began feeling uncomfortable, opening up wasn't really his forte, "I need you… To balance me out."

Charlie had rarely seen Bass so vulnerable, she conceded with a sad smile, "Okay."

She almost regretted her decision the next day when they were loading up the horses and Connor rocked up with a pack of his own, claiming he was coming too. Arguments ensued, it wasn't safe, they only had two horses, Miles would need him to stay, sass and sarcasm ran wild until it was agreed that he would come, Charlie got the last laugh though as she watched father and son begrudgingly sharing a horse ahead of her.

Glancing back at the barn, she nodded to her family, there were no goodbyes, they only paved the way for regrets, besides, they were all fairly confident they'd be seeing each other again soon.

Rachel watched as her only living child disappeared over a hill, her daughter had left again and, just like last time, Rachel had done nothing to persuade her to stay. Despite hating on the man, she was sure Bass would look after her, protect her from whatever the journey threw at them, however, she'd noticed how they were with each other recently, the ups and downs, the looks, the more she saw of it, the more disconcerted she grew.

Would he be able to protect her from himself? Would he stop himself if Charlie offered? If her daughter was anything like she was at that age, she probably would let loose a bit, it was up to Bass to set her straight, which was looking less and less likely.

"Rachel," Miles's voice broke her thoughts, she must have been out of it for a while, they were inside now and it looked like it was getting dark out, she hated it when that happened, whole days were lost when her paranoid mind took over, "You ready for this?"

She frowned before remembering the plan and neutralised herself, locking her bad thoughts away, "Of course."

Walking through town towards the Patriot barracks, Rachel kept her head low. With the original batch of Patriots still lingering, there was a high risk of her getting arrested, but it was hoped that the new recruits wouldn't have a clue as to her identity, except Tom Neville.

Waiting at the heavily guarded barrier, she asked for him. Recognition was instantaneous, he put on that award-winning act of his, smiling brightly at the men, "It's alright fellas, I've got this."

The men nodded, retreating inside. As soon as they were alone, his façade slipped, "Rachel Matheson. New and powerful government is having problems, and you show up," though his face was blank, he was secretly glad to see a familiar face, "What are you doing here?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow, "I could ask you the same thing, Tom."

"Same as you, I presume."

It was the answer she was hoping for, she began to walk away, whispering a quick 'come on' to get him to follow.

Tom was almost ready to turn back when the barn came into view. Feeling thoroughly suspicious, he kept a hand on his gun as they crept down the creaky, wooden stairs. His fears were disbanded though when he laid eyes on the occupants of the barn, an old man was sat in the corner, he deemed him to be of no threat.

Someone else drew his interest though, stepping out of the shadows, "Miles?"

"Hey, Tom," Miles shuffled forward, scratching at the back of his neck, "Been a while."

Smiling nervously, Tom stepped closer, he'd finally found the people he'd been looking for and needing desperately for a long time, he couldn't deny he was more than a little delighted, "It's… Good to see you again."

Miles rolled his eyes with a smirk, "Yeah, I'm sure. Look, we need to talk."

It was Bass that insisted the trio kept travelling through the night, wanting to get there and back as quick as possible, but he felt like an utter ass as he watched an exhausted Charlie drift off and jump awake again repeatedly, being both soothed and jostled by her horse's movements.

She was in danger of falling off, he held his hand out to steady her and bring their horses to a stop. Sliding off, Bass handed the reins to his son with a trusting nod before jumping up behind Charlie and bringing his hands around her front to hold the reins that she'd been half-heartedly gripping.

Jumping awake at the contact, Charlie tried to nudge him away before realising they were still on a horse, she turned her head slightly, eyes not quite focused, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, just wanted to get away from the kid for a while, he's not very comfy." He lied, saving her dignity. He pressed his lips into her hair as she leaned back against his chest, wrapping her hands around his arms and drifting off once more.

Miles and Tom had been swapping stories about just what they'd been up to since the bombs dropped, each leaving out specific details such as Monroe being alive, or Tom's family being held captive and threatened by the President himself, those titbits were unnecessary for the time being and potentially dangerous until true motives were revealed.

Turns out, Tom had been sent to finish what Truman had started, and also start up a re-education site, it took a few tense moments for him to explain just what re-education was, he was sure one of them was going to stick a knife in his throat at the revelation.

Rachel reacted first, sounding almost as desperate as she had whenever he'd witnessed Monroe attacking her back in Philly, "But you're on our side, right? You can stop this!"

Tom's gaze dropped to his hands, sensing the time to tell them his family was in danger was drawing near, "You think I want this? I'm on direct orders from the President," there was a collective gasp and a raising of eyebrows, "Jason ended up in one of those camps, took me weeks to get him back to half normal."

"So you know what's going to happen to thousands of people, and you're just going to sit back and watch?!" Rachel was growing edgier by the minute, thoughts of Charlie being reprogrammed sent a nauseous chill through her body, "You can talk your way in and out of anything, get your men to see how messed up this is."

He turned to her, staring her down, "Don't you understand? There is _nothing_ I can do, this is happening everywhere… And… They have my family. If I step a toe outta line, they die. Make no mistake, I don't like lying down, being someone's bitch, and I don't like admitting when I'm defeated, but this is it, there's no stopping them… Unless you've got a force of supernatural magnitude stuffed inside that oversized brain of yours, I suggest you learn to accept what you can't change."

Miles huffed, deflated, he'd never seen Tom so… Weak. He could see the cogs turning in Rachel's head, he sent her a warning glare, begging her to keep schtum about Aaron and the nanite weirdness.

Tom made his way to the exit, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, "One more thing, I wasn't sent here at random, it's too much of a coincidence, he knows you're here," his voice softened, "Be careful, and I'd keep an eye on that pain in the ass daughter of yours," he hadn't noticed she was missing until talk of the reprogramming centres came up, "I'll keep you informed."

He slipped out, feeling disheartened by the reunion, but held onto the hope that they'd figure something out, the Mathesons were schemers, anarchists, if they came up with a satisfying enough plan, he would do his best to encourage and assist.

Rachel opened her mouth to speak, "Don't," Miles interrupted, "I know what you're thinking, don't. Even if your sci-fi army could help, Aaron took off, and I'm sick of running around the country looking for people, we'll think of another way to settle this."

She stared blankly at him for a moment before backing up and sitting with Gene, closing herself off again and letting her 'oversized brain' go into overdrive, skipping between thoughts of the Patriots, the President, of how to stop them, of Danny, and of Charlie, Bass suddenly didn't seem so bad now that she was potentially in danger of being turned into a murdering zombie.

In a mad moment of insanity, she briefly thought about waiting for them to come back, handing them a bag of diamonds and telling them to run away and hide, be somewhat happy and try to live a normal life. She scoffed at herself, maybe she really was crazy.

Bass, Charlie and Connor had been riding for two days straight, they were all getting pretty tired and hungry. As the sun set once again, Bass finally relented, steering them off the road and into the woods for shelter, finding a little clearing a short distance in.

Connor watched with no shortage of frustration as his dad helped Charlie down from their horse, bringing them temptingly close to one another, it was a smooth move on his old man's part, but there was no seduction or lust in his eyes, but something else entirely, it put Connor's stomach in knots, Bass clearly wasn't playing a game anymore.

Part of him wanted his father to be happy, but a much more superior part wanted to hurt him, and he was rapidly giving away one of his few weaknesses: Charlie.

When she skittered away to hunt in the last of the light, he called his dad out on it, "Y'know, just because you've started giving her goo-goo eyes, don't think I'm going to stop chasing her."

His son was becoming an annoying disappointment, Bass lifted his gaze from the fire to meet Connor's snarky grin, anger started to sizzle beneath his skin, "And don't _you_ think I'm going to let you get into her panties just to piss me off."

There was something deadly in Bass's eyes that actually intimidated his son, he felt truly threatened in that moment, more threatened than he had when he was with Nunez.

Charlie came back with some rabbits a little while later, they ate in awkward silence and when the time came to sleep, Connor was put on watch, left to brood while Bass and Charlie's bodies migrated towards each other through the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:**

**I honestly don't know what's going on with this chapter, it looked like I'd written it by smacking my head onto the keyboard repeatedly. I'm suffering from Charloe-withdrawal, can you tell? Really hoping this next episode has some badass scenes, or I might actually cry. **

**Riles, Nevilles and nanites can go away, just gimme Charlie and shirtless Bass!**

**PIP**

* * *

Waking up with an extra limb was a bit alarming; Charlie stared at the hand splayed delicately over her waist, finding herself more disturbed at the fact that she knew who it belonged to without needing to roll over and check, she was familiar with the bumps and creases of his knuckles, the cuts and bruises and old scars that decorated him.

Yes, there was no doubt, she knew exactly whose hand it was, the important question was why was it resting on her body?

Finally deciding to roll over, her breath caught in her chest as Bass's piercing, bright eyes stared straight into her own, she wanted to say something but couldn't quite remember how to speak. He smoothed his hand around her back, pulling her just that little bit closer.

Bass let his mask slip for a moment, just for her, revealing his confusion and conflicted feelings, but shut himself down again before she could pick an appropriate reaction, clearing his throat and getting up, he mumbled something about food and disappeared into the trees, leaving her reeling.

Charlie couldn't take her eyes off where he had been lying beside her; she couldn't shake the frown that was playing on her features, what the hell just happened?!

The funny feeling remained with her for the rest of the morning as she replayed everything over and over again in her head; she barely spoke, hardly touched her breakfast and was anxiously avoiding a similarly off-kilter Bass for fear of upsetting him further. Connor was either ridiculously unobservant and unable to pick up on the tension or was choosing to turn a blind eye, whatever the reason, Charlie was thankful he wasn't sticking his nose in.

She found herself growing more and more concerned about who would be sharing a horse, she almost wanted to walk instead of having to choose between Flower Boy or Mr Personality Disorder, and judging by the murderous glares they'd been throwing at one another all morning, they wouldn't be up to sharing either.

When the time came to leave, Charlie heaved her pack onto her shoulder, prepared to walk for as long as she had to before her emotionally raw state of mind settled down, she was much happier on foot than riding or travelling by wagon anyway, there was a greater sense of achievement in walking long distances.

The men watched curiously as she made her own way out of camp and back towards the road. With firm ground beneath her feet, Charlie picked up the pace, not bothering to wait but it wasn't long before horses could be heard galloping up behind her. Within seconds, Bass snatched her bag away, clipping it next to his own with a boyish grin.

Bringing the horse to a stop immediately in front of her, he held out his hand, "Get'cha self up here, Matheson."

Her gaze shifted from his outstretched hand, to his face, and back again, an eyebrow cocked in suspicion. Rolling her eyes, she let him tug her up and nuzzle up to her back, his mood swings were actually starting to give her a headache, it was a good thing he was comfy, or she wouldn't put up with it.

Bass could almost hear the questions screaming inside her head, he owed her an explanation but the words kept disappearing whenever he opened his mouth, he didn't fully understand what was going on himself, if nothing made sense to him, it sure as hell wasn't going to make sense to her either.

Another long day of travelling made Charlie realise just how difficult it was to stay unhappy with someone when you were sharing a horse with them, especially when that someone was Bass Monroe, the suave charmer, the poorly timed comedian, and the secret softie.

He spent the whole day whispering stories in her ear, giving her scraps of insight into his life, the first time he rode a horse, his favourite pet, a dog aptly named 'Zeppelin' after his favourite band, his first trip overseas, little things about him that very few people knew, it humanised him to the point where she almost forgot about the past ten years or so of his life, they were just a glitch, a really long, really bad glitch.

Connor was intrigued too; the bits and pieces of his father's life he'd tuned into were fascinating, yet sad. He could have been a part of that life, if they'd known about each other. Finally, he had found something he couldn't hate his dad for, it was his mother that had lied, it was Miles that hid him away in Mexico, Bass had no idea he even existed.

As darkness started to fall once more, Bass left it to Charlie to decide whether or not they'd make camp, not wanting to push her limits again. Due to her pickiness at breakfast, her empty stomach had been getting progressively louder in its protests, she agreed to a rest, letting Bass pick them a safe spot for the night.

"Alright, Connor, you sort the food out, me and Charlie are gonna scope the area out a bit." Charlie eyed him doubtfully, feeling pretty sure he wouldn't pick the place he had if he had suspected it would need checking out.

He led the way through the thicket of trees and bushes, being the least stealthy she had ever seen him, clearly this wasn't really a scoping session.

"Bass, what's going on?" In the space of a heartbeat, he had her backed up against a tree. The speed of the action and the intense look in his eyes frightened her for a moment, though she would never let him see.

Charlie was confused, he was showing all the signs that he was about to kill her, but his eyes suggested something else. She didn't want to show him any weakness in case either of them misinterpreted what was going on, but his grip on her arms was bringing tears to her eyes, she was sure there would be plenty of bruising in the morning.

His voice was low and rough, pained, "This morning shouldn't have happened," he stepped away when she frowned, letting his hands slide down her arms, "When you woke up… I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Taking his hands within her own, she tugged him close, "What are you afraid of?"

Resting their foreheads together, he stared down at their entwined fingers, her hands were so small compared to his own, "That wasn't me, that's not who I am, Miles is into all that cuddly crap, you know me."

She smirked, "Mmm, you'll have to remind me," finally, he smiled, "Besides, I don't want you to be Miles… That's just creepy, I want you."

Locking her between him and the tree with his legs, Bass slipped his hands around her waist, her hips, down the curve of her backside, pulling them impossibly closer. He left a hot, torturously teasing kiss on her needy lips before moving down her neck, Charlie had to bite down on her lip to stop herself mewling, his hands made their way beneath her tank top, edging up the soft skin of her back…

"Hey guys, you out there?! Food's ready."

Bass breathed heavily into her neck, "Why the hell did we bring him, again?"

* * *

The rest of the journey was rife with tension, Connor wouldn't leave them alone and Bass was playing on it, making Charlie frustrated and antsy. Everything was pushed aside, however, when New Vegas came into view, looking very much the same as it had when Bass and Charlie had last been there.

They tied the horses up in the stables, momentarily wondering if they would be there when they came back.

Bass kept his head down as they weaved through the crowds and tents, surprised at how many regulars still remained, it was unusual for anyone to stick around longer than a couple days, a few weeks at the most, but there were familiar faces everywhere now.

It was a little while later, when they shuffled inside a bar tent, that someone started yelling his alias, his heart pounded in recognition; he'd hoped they would have gotten a little further before being caught out.

"Jimmy! Where the hell you been, man?" Charlie recognised the man from the last time she was in New Vegas, he took a quick glance over her, "Hey, I remember you, you paid to get some alone time with Jimmy the night he went missing."

Bass eyed her with surprise, vaguely remembering being hassled to meet a girl. A ludicrously hilarious plan popped into his head, he grabbed Charlie's hand, hoping she'd play ball, "Yeah, what can I say? It was love at first sight, couldn't let her just walk away," his heart was skipping with elation when Charlie cottoned on to what was happening and placed her free hand lovingly on his chest, "She's changed my life, I owe ya."

It was an extremely poor choice of words and they all knew it, Charlie began squeezing his hand furiously, desperately wanting him to stop talking and get them out of there, but it was too late, "Actually, Jim, thinking about it, you do owe me. You owe me a fight, lots of people made bets, bets I had to give back when you took off."

There it was, that temptation, the thrilling tug of adrenaline that had kept him in New Vegas all those weeks, and there, staring at him with screaming eyes, was his anchor, the woman that soothed his inner turmoil and was threatening to pull his hand off.

He shook his head, "Sorry pal, I put all that behind me when Charlotte came along, I'm only here to find Duncan."

"Duncan? She moved on ages ago. I'll make you a deal, you fight and I'll tell you where she went."

Bass watched, heartbroken, as the hope began to die in Charlie's eyes, they could probably just ask elsewhere but walking away from a fight could potentially put them all in danger, it was easier to agree than get forced into it.

Besides, it wasn't like anyone in this place could really take him down, they were just a bunch of self-pitying drunkards looking for a scrap, and he'd been on a winning streak before Charlie and the bounty hunters rocked up. He was a little out of practice, Patriots didn't exactly put up much of a fight compared to some of the guys around here, but training got thrown out the window pretty much as soon as you stepped into the ring, it was all about survival instincts.

"Gimme your word." Charlie's hand slipped subtly out of his grasp, a sure sign of her disappointment, and no doubt he'd hear about it when they were alone. He wanted her to come because she was the voice of reason, most of the time, but she was useless if he wasn't going to at least try and listen to her!

With a less than promising nod, they were led away from the hustle and bustle to where the more permanent carnies stayed, Bass was disappointed but not surprised to see someone else in what was once his ramshackle trailer. The place put a bad taste in Charlie's mouth, last time she'd seen it was when she tried to lodge an arrow in his skull.

She looked over to Connor, completely forgetting for a moment that he was even there, he was unusually quiet, looking a little out of his depth, she'd heard that the place he had been living in before was rough, but by the look on his face now, New Vegas was a hell of a lot worse. It was funny to look at it from another person's perspective, Charlie had always thought the place had an odd charm about it.

The trio were taken to a shack on the very edge of the trailer park, it looked very much the same inside and out, disused and old, it smelled of rot and the furniture looked like it would collapse at any second.

"You can rest up in here, I'll come get you later." As soon as the door closed and they were left alone, Bass prepared himself for whatever attack his favourite travelling companion would throw at him, verbal or physical.

Instead, she crashed down onto an old mattress with a huff, burying her face into the pillows, there was a muffled "You're so stupid.", earning a sharp, agreeing chuckle from Connor. She rolled over and found a spot on the ceiling to glare at, feeling thoroughly worn out and 100% done with everything.

"Don't worry, I've got this. How many times have you seen me fight, Charlie? You know I can do this. Just a couple swings to the guy's head, we'll get our information and be on our merry way," feeling petulant, she turned away from him, "Trust me."

There were those words again, he used them a lot with her, it was like their little anthem.

Feeling his fingers trail down her spine made her shiver; she rolled back over, finding him kneeling beside her. Her gaze flicked to an unobservant Connor fiddling with his shirt, and back to Bass, her eyes challenging him to finish what he started.

He smiled down at her knowingly, and regretfully, now wasn't the time.

"Sorry to break up the puke-fest, but shouldn't you be doing something? Warming up, getting yourself psyched?" It was the first full sentence Connor had spoken in about three hours, and it was once again poorly timed.

Bass turned to his son, "Yeah, sure, you wanna be my target practice, kid?"

He began doing stretches and practice punches, not putting too much effort in so as not to waste his energy, though he doubted he'd be using all that much in the ring.

When the time came to leave, Bass shrugged out of his jacket and top, dumping them carelessly on the floor, "Alright, let's get this over with." His blood ran cold when two bouncers appeared at the door beside the fight promoter.

"They stay. My guys'll take good care of them, think of it as insurance." There was a chorus of 'what' and 'hell no' from the trio, "Don't worry, if you do a good job, they won't get hurt."

"Give us a minute," Bass slammed the door and turned to the pair, "It's fine, didn't really want you guys watching anyway, it can get pretty brutal."

Charlie shifted nervously, she looked so vulnerable in that moment, it broke his heart, "Promise me you'll come back."

"I always do, don't I?"

Her voice was shaky as memories of her dad, Maggie and Danny ran through her mind, "This is different! Promise me."

He saw in her what he constantly saw in himself whenever he started caring about someone, the fear of them leaving, of them dying, of not being able to say goodbye. Enfolding her slender frame in his arms gently, there was no lust or passion to it, just care and comfort, after everything they had gone through together, he owed her this much.

He laid a sweet kiss on her shoulder before turning to his son, Connor was getting good at the eye-communication thing, his dad was either telling him to take care of Charlie, or threatening to pound his face in if he touched her, knowing him, it was probably both.

And just like that, he was gone.

Connor was the first to speak; his voice seemed to echo around the room that seemed so empty now, "So how long do these things take?" he'd watched his dad take down plenty of guys, he was pretty quick for an older guy, but he wouldn't have any weapons this time, just fists and the brains to use them.

"I have no idea, I've only seen him do this once, and that was over pretty quickly." Her words gave them both hope. Her lips twitched with remembrance, he didn't show any mercy, pummelling his fists into his opponent's body over and over, keen accuracy making it a crippling blow each time, his muscular body rippling and twitching with adrenaline.

Charlie realised just how much she wanted to see him fight now, wanted to see the look in his eyes when his foe fell to the ground in defeat, wanted to be the first to congratulate him.

The build-up to a fight was almost as good as the fight itself, Bass tried to keep his heart steady but it was always a losing battle, you couldn't help but get excited; his body hummed with anticipation and excess energy as the fight tent drew nearer, people could be heard shouting and jeering from halfway down the Strip.

His idiocy was revealed as he stepped inside, laying eyes on who he was fighting for the first time. The man was a tank, tall and largely built, with a cocky grin slapped across his face; everyone Bass had ever fought wore that smile in the beginning, before their confidence crashed to the dirt along with their faces.

"_Ladies and gentlemen," _the voices, the shouts and hollers all became a noisy blur, _"Tonight, we see the return of the one, the only, the legendary, undefeated JIMMY KING!"_

The seconds ticked by, they stalked one another, trying to identify the weak spots. Bass struck out first, too soon, too keen, his hit was dodged and a hefty fist crashed into his cheek, displacing a tooth that was swiftly spat onto the floor.

Blood poured from his mouth but he straightened back up bravely, successfully blocking some more facial shots and sending a winding punch to the guy's gut. The man, Bass had decided to nickname 'Kong', hunched himself over and coughed out a few harsh breaths, Bass thought he was about to drive it home with an elbow to the back but Kong recovered quicker than expected and blocked him.

Doubt started to set in, this wasn't going to be an easy fight.

Charlie was frustrated, and her short fuse was rubbing off on Connor, "Can you stop that?!"

Her eyes shot up to the distracting voice, she kept zoning out and forgetting she wasn't alone, "What?"

"That! That tapping," he pointed to the arrow she had been mindlessly rapping against her boot without realising, "It's annoying."

With a huff, Charlie stuffed the arrow back into her crossbow. Idly watching the bouncers through the window, she remembered what Bass had taught her, looked for their weaknesses, for their weapons and waited for the opportune moment, "We could take them."

Connor spun around, puzzled, he followed her gaze to the men outside as she pulled a sleek, little knife out of her boot, this crazy woman just didn't know how to stay put! Still, he was curious; he wanted to see his old man fight too.

Edging towards the door together, Charlie almost wanted to laugh upon discovering it wasn't locked, how stupid were these guys? Clearly they thought more with their fists than their brains. With lightning speed, she threw the door open and lodged the knife into the back of one man's neck, he fell to the floor with a gurgled cry.

She swung around just as Connor jumped the other guy, putting him on the ground with a single punch to the temple; she scoffed with an admiring smirk, "Show off."

They ran side by side through New Vegas, keenly listening out for the brutal noises of the fight tent, everywhere looked the same but it wasn't hard to find, not many places had shouts of 'kill him' coming from them.

Bass felt her before he could see her; he could feel her hot gaze raking over him, somewhere in the crowd, Charlie was watching. Just when his body was ready to cave, her presence pushed him on, she wouldn't watch him fail. Down a tooth, with a possible cracked rib and unable to take in a full breath, he broke his rule of not letting emotions rule in a fight and unleashed his rage.

Taking a running jump, he simultaneously sent his knee into Kong's ribcage whilst smashing his fists into his face as many times as he could before they both hit the floor. He stood up shakily, feeling utterly spent, he made the most of the short respite as his opponent started to push himself up, waiting until he was just high enough to crack Kong's jaw with his knee, finishing him off.

Finally, he could breathe a painful sigh of relief, his heavy eyes scanned through the crowd for Charlie hungrily, catching sight of Connor's curly head of hair heading outside. In all his sweaty, topless glory, he followed, ignoring the congratulatory smacks to the back and girls trying to pull him back.

Charlie was holding the bloodied fight promoter by the scruff of his neck, her fist at the ready to attack again, her knuckles were raw and cut from punching so hard, he winced, they must be hurting, "Where's Duncan?"

"Jim! Jimmy, get your girl off of me!"

Bass laughed, regretting his glee immediately as a sharp pain shot through his chest, "You're crazy if you think I can tell her what to do. Just answer her question."

She struggled to remain focused with him so close, not allowing herself to look his way was difficult; she didn't need the distraction of those gleaming muscles. Jerking her clenched hand closer made the weasel jump, "Alright, alright! She went a few miles north… S-She's just up the road."

None of them could believe what they were hearing, after what Bass had just gone through for that pathetic bit of information. Charlie was fuming; she turned to him, attitude and annoyance pouring from every part of her, Bass shook his head to her unspoken question and she released the waste of space, allowing him a brief moment of relief before nonchalantly knocking him out.

Bass frowned disapprovingly, "What? You didn't want me to kill him, what did you expect me to do?" her words felt familiar, now he understood why Miles lost his cool with him so much, he was constantly misinterpreting what was required versus what was wanted.

She looked down at her bloody knuckles, flexed her fingers and finally acknowledged the burning sensation coming from them, she wondered for a moment just how Bass could do it, bare-knuckle fighting certainly wasn't for everyone, "We should get cleaned up, we've got a warlord to find."


	8. Chapter 8

**This hiatus was perfectly timed. I have an endless list of reasons why I haven't posted, I'd uhmm'd and aah'd about putting the story on hiatus before, then all Hell broke loose and it was pretty much decided. I'm glad I took a time out, otherwise I would've brought Steven Tyler's mummified remains to life and had him go on a killing spree... That actually doesn't sound like too bad a fic... A crossover of The Mummy and Revolution, with Bass turning to Charlie all eye-rolling like "Isn't this going just a little bit too far?". **

**Anyway, very sorry for keeping you guys and girls waiting, some things just needed to take a back seat for a while and this was, unfortunately, one of them.**

**So yeah, enjoy. Depending on how much of my soul work decides to suck out of me, the next chapter should be up within a few days.**

**PIP**

* * *

Deciding against hanging around New Vegas and waiting to get attacked, the trio headed out into the wilderness for some much needed rest.

Bass was somewhat content with the knowledge that his friend wasn't too far away. There was, however, a niggling apprehension running through him, he and Duncan had been close before he was kidnapped, too close for her to be at all okay with him doing a vanishing act without saying goodbye, even if it wasn't his fault. Hopefully, she'd let him explain before putting a bullet in his brain.

Then again, this was Duncan, not Charlie. There were less second and third chances, she was more of a kill now and ask questions later kind of girl, living rough for so long can do that to a person, mistrusting everything and everyone was the only thing that kept you alive, that, and a very nice gun, one he'd lost to her in a game of cards. He had let her win, obviously, being a gentleman and all that, he wondered for a moment if she still had it.

The adrenaline rush from before was certainly wavering, he became aware of just how much pain he was in, with every body part stinging, aching or feeling like it was about to drop off. He quickly nodded to a bushy area nearby, it wasn't a great place to stay, there definitely wasn't enough coverage, but he'd only end up face planting the ground if they didn't stop soon.

As soon as the blankets were laid out, Bass collapsed to the barely softened ground, gritting his teeth to hold back a pained groan, it had been a long time since he'd received that bad a beating, he could tell he wouldn't be able to just bounce back from this one like he used to.

Feeling eyes on him, he lifted his head to find Charlie sat at his feet, glancing over as she rummaged furiously through her backpack, wincing as her hand rubbed against the various items inside, "How's your hand?"

"It's fine." She snapped shortly. It clearly wasn't fine; the skin on and around her knuckles was raw and bruised, and still bleeding in places. For all they knew, her body could still be recovering from the typhus, getting an infection now could kill her.

Bass sat up stiffly, his body sending a shooting pain down his back in protest, and grabbed his own bag, pulling out some rags and bandages. He motioned for her to shuffle closer, "It needs covering, better to be safe than sorry."

Charlie raised a cocky eyebrow, pretty confident she could manage just fine on her own, but he tugged on her hand gently before she could respond, "Let me fix this."

He apologised with his eyes every time she hissed or flinched as he bandaged her up, they sat in comfortable silence for the most part, he knew she was watching him; her body was practically humming with the will to speak but the inability to string the right words together kept her almost silent.

Sitting back, Bass admired his handiwork, and her.

The image of their little fire danced in her eyes, the gentle blues darkening to balance out the bright orange, it was mesmerising. There was emotion there too but it appeared she was having difficulty choosing a specific one, her confusion was both amusing and unsettling, someone normally so sure of herself shouldn't look so lost.

They were open books to one another, and she was trying not to be, that didn't sit right with him. They were partners in battle and in precious, stolen moments alone together, distancing herself meant she was preparing, trying to make it easier for both of them when she would eventually leave.

For a while, he had tried to convince himself that she was just Miles 2.0, but it was different now, if he lost her, it wouldn't be like losing Miles again, it would be like losing Shelley, his baby, his parents, his sisters.

She was a much a part of his life as was breathing, or alcohol, and he was pretty sure that if she disappeared, the darkness that had been lying dormant inside of him for so many months would come back, full force, and God help the Patriots when that happened.

A whispered 'thank you' broke his disturbed trail of thoughts, his eyes refocused as Charlie began to stand. Panicking for a moment, Bass grabbed her arms and held her in an awkward squatting position, "Don't go," his words were a little more desperate than he had intended, "I know you're mad about the fight."

"I'm not mad about that," she objected quietly, "I was, but then I found something else to be mad about," the puzzled, anxious look on his face urged her to continue, "The way you looked at me when I beat that guy up, when I knocked him out, you judged me, and I can take that from Grandpa… But not from someone like you."

Someone like him… A murderer, a man who killed in cold blood just because he could, someone who had absolutely no right to look down on her for doing something completely innocent compared to his previous antics as General.

"I'm not gonna start tiptoeing around you."

"No, I don't want you to." Bass scratched at the back of his neck, desperate for an explanation that didn't sound like utter crap, "Look, I'd had one too many hits to the head, I was confused, alright? Seeing you do that, with that detached look in your eyes, it scared me a bit. I saw so much of myself in you, and I don't want to think of you going down that path." He hated his own words, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than anything, where was the confident, word-ready General when he needed him?!

Charlie rolled her eyes, spotting Connor approaching with the horses they'd abandoned in New Vegas, she kept her voice low as she stood, "Well, if 'going down that path' means surviving just that little bit longer, I'm gonna take it."

With a heavy heart, Bass watched her stalk past Connor and disappear into the darkness, hoping some space would do her good.

"What's got her panties in a twist?" Connor mumbled as he shuffled closer to camp, glancing over his shoulder in the direction Charlie took off in.

Bass got up and stroked his horse, secretly proud of his son for getting them back on his own, "Not you, thank God."

Briefly, they shared that cocky Monroe smirk, before Connor straightened; taking another nervous look around, "Seriously though, want me to go get her?"

Bass chuckled sharply, "Best not, I've put enough of my family in the ground."

"Well isn't that exactly why we should be going after her… Because she's family, right?"

Something tugged at Bass's heart as his words were repeated back to him, when did his son start seeing Charlie as family and not as a piece of meat to chew on? Where had the lusty gleam in his eyes disappeared to?

It felt good to have something go in his favour for once, providing the kid was being genuine. It was obvious who Charlie had chosen anyway, but it would be nice to not have to hide behind trees or in a bunch of bushes anymore. Still, there was a problem: he had Charlie all to himself, except he didn't; she was off on her own, probably thinking of ways to kill him... Again. Not the greatest of foundations for a relationship.

If Charlie was anything like her mom, or Miles for that matter, she'd need plenty of time to cool down, maybe get a few drinks in her, if she could find anywhere safe enough, she was surprisingly, and unfortunately, easier to handle when inebriated. It was a worrying thought, he hoped she would steer clear of shifty looking bars; he was in no fit state to play the knight in shining armour again.

Despite successfully convincing himself to stay in camp and rest up, Bass was growing more and more agitated as the moon passed further across the sky and the dim blue hue of day appeared. He knew he couldn't keep chasing after her, she needed to come back to him for once.

But she had been gone way too long. What if she had left for good? She'd done it before; just walked away from the ones she loved. Every step she was taking could be getting her further and further away from him, away from what they had.

"Screw this," Bass snapped, standing up and making Connor jump, "Get your stuff, we've gotta go find Charlotte."

* * *

Miles had been in a foul mood since he got back from scouting the town, forcing the few remaining occupants of their little barn to tread on eggshells around him. The only cure to Matheson men's bad moods was whiskey, and Rachel, something she herself was all too aware of as she tugged her top lower to reveal just a little bit more cleavage and put her hair up the way Miles liked it.

She less than graciously plopped another bottle of liquor down in front of him as he finished one, he winced at the noise, starting to feel a little buzzed.

Miles knew her game, she'd played it one too many times with him, she was vying for information, and probably something else a little later on, judging by just how low she pulled that tank top. He was tempted to mess with her a bit but she'd done good with the whiskey and even cracked a seemingly genuine smile for once, such effort probably deserved a little gesture of thanks.

He offered her a glass but she shook her head, biting her lip to hide her disappointment, having to remind herself that she could get drunk any day of the week, Miles was more important right now.

Sighing heavily, Miles gave in, his voice was a little hoarse from the strength of the alcohol, "We gotta rendezvous with Tom again," Rachel frowned at him, puzzled, "I saw his kid in town, the kid that's meant to be getting the crap beaten out of him by the President and his goons."

The cogs turned in Rachel's head, so that's why he was being off, he suspected a trap.

"I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation." Mission accomplished, she poured herself a nice, large drink.

Miles scoffed before necking another drink, "There always is with Tom."

A wild strand of Rachel's hair dislodged itself as she knocked her drink back in one gulp, he twirled it around his finger before putting it back behind her ear, she didn't look all that different from before the blackout, still his princess all these years later. Except, there was so much emptiness in her eyes now, something he had had a large part in causing.

It was cruel, they loved and needed one another, and yet, they only seemed capable of hurting each other. _Bad things happen when we're together…_

But in spite of all the pain and misery, they were still drawn to one another, still reeling the other in, like moths to a flame.

"What are you thinking about?" Her gentle, soothing voice broke his musing.

Tilting his head, Miles blinked away the haze that had begun forming across his vision, casually telling himself to go to Rachel for whiskey more often, she had excellent taste, "Us."

They clinked glasses with mischievous grins, "To us, the most messed up couple in America."

Miles chuckled, "Yeah, with Charlie and Bass coming in close second." _Oops. _He blanched, heart stopping for a few beats as Rachel's eyes darkened.

She smiled nervously, brow furrowing deeper by the second as her scientific brain went into overload with dangerous and conflicting emotions, her rational side believed she had misheard, misinterpreted what was actually said… But her rational side was near non-existent these days, and it certainly held no authority over her, "What?"

"It's nothing; they just had a little thing."

"Oh… 'A little thing'… That's… That's wonderfully descriptive, Miles. Explain, now." She jumped to extreme conclusions and found herself feeling queasy at the thought of her daughter and that man together; she had only just started to accept Bass as part of the group, wanting to kill him less and less, but now? All bets were off.

Horrific images ran riot in her head as she waited for Miles to conjure up the right words, he shrugged as his mouth kept opening and closing like a damn fish, "It was just a kiss!" he eventually managed.

The revelation that it was nothing more than a quick snog did absolutely nothing to calm Rachel; he winced as he imagined the ice cold walls build up around her, blocking everyone out, protecting herself.

She smiled sweetly, sickly, her eyes revealed nothing of the emotional storm inside her mind, "Well, I suppose that's alright then."

"Rach-" Miles started as she got up, darting outside quickly and slamming the barn doors behind her, he could do nothing but huff, drink more and allow her a little time to process everything, and probably scheme, she did that a lot, after all, especially when it came to Bass.

He was growing tired of the mini-war between them, if it didn't stop, he'd have to choose. It was a situation that utterly terrified him, partly because he didn't feel complete without both of them there, life was dull without them, but more importantly, he had no idea who he'd actually choose.

They'd both want and expect him to pick themselves, but it wasn't that straightforward, there was a lot of history, and a lot of bad blood between all of them. If he chose Bass, Rachel would have no one, having pushed most people away with her instability. Depending on where 'just a kiss' went, Bass could have Charlie by his side if he chose Rachel, but Miles had already pushed Bass away once, look where that lead!

It certainly wasn't something he was going to decide with so much alcohol in him. Piss poor choices were made when drunk and he'd made far too many of them in his lifetime, time for a change.

Instead, he focused on the Nevilles, having one hanging around was bad enough, but two? That was just dangerous, especially when the second was meant to be a brainwashed zombie murderer that should be locked up in a cage somewhere in the White House. Something was going on, and Miles really didn't like not knowing.

He pondered on what would happen if and when they all had a big reunion; it was an entertaining thought but not one that could keep his eyes from sliding shut, the whiskey once again assisting in relaxing him to the point of sleep.

Rachel crept back in some time later, having walked off most of her frustration. Bass getting his claws into Charlie wasn't something she was going to let go of any time soon, but there were a lot of things she couldn't let go of, she would just be patient, wait it out until either her dark feelings subsided or he'd slip up so bad that Miles would beat the crap out of him.

She tried to remind herself that it was only a kiss, and, unbelievably, it turned out that there were worse people than Bass. If it did go any further, at least he'd protect her. It had been a foreign concept to Rachel that Monroe was anything other than a monster, but then Connor came into the picture, and he had proved on many occasions that he cared about Charlie, about all of them, in fact.

He had done a better job of looking after her family in recent weeks than she had done for the majority of her life. It still didn't make him a good person, he wasn't a changed man just yet, but it was certainly a step in the right direction.

Charlie seemed to think there was something in him that could be saved and he'd responded by trying to prove her right, latching onto the one person that had any firm belief or trust in him.

However, if Rachel had learned anything from her time as his captive, it was that Bass was unpredictable, manipulative, always with a plan up his sleeve. He'd do pretty much anything to better himself and get ahead; he could change his mind about something, or someone, in the blink of an eye. Like her, his instability pushed people away.

It sent a nauseating chill down Rachel's spine to think they were in any way alike.

Miles grunted in his sleep beside her, snapping her back into reality. She snaked a blanket around them and snuggled up against his arm, remembering similar moments from way before the blackout, when they'd fall asleep curled up in front of the TV. Precious times, cloaked in sadness and pain and secrets, it had all gone so wrong, and it was all her fault.

She fell into a restless slumber with that thought in her head.

* * *

Bass was exhausted, he couldn't actually recall a time where he'd felt so worn out, he had had worse days in the marines but even that didn't compare to the heaviness his body was barely putting up with now, age was taking its toll, something he had struggled to come to terms with for the longest time.

Dying from old age was a rare thing these days, even rarer when you lived the way he did. He had always expected to get killed in combat, it was just the way things were, but he supposed there was still plenty of time for that.

They'd been following Charlie's dusty tracks for hours. Mercifully, she had headed away from New Vegas, but that didn't necessarily mean she was safe, quite the opposite in fact, there were some unfamiliar footprints, and quite a lot of them, surrounding hers, she had been followed.

When Charlie's tracks ceased abruptly, panic set in for the Monroe men. The night in Pottsboro flashed through Bass's mind, he couldn't let it happen again. Last time, he was lucky, she was easy to track and it was just a matter of watching and waiting, now though, time was ticking by.

It wasn't long after losing her footprints that they started seeing blood splattered across the dirt. The emptiness in Bass's chest was unbearable, his breathing became unsteady as he unsuccessfully and desperately tried to convince himself that it wasn't Charlie's blood, it just couldn't be.

He tracked like he had never tracked before; eyes practically glued to the ground the entire time, picking up on the slightest and most insignificant changes in the dirt. He was so focused on what was going on on the floor that he failed to notice the ambush forming around them.

"Sebastian Monroe." An all too familiar voice called out.

His head snapped up to see a leather-clad brunette staring him down with a dirty smirk, her wavy hair shuddered in the desert breeze. Bass straightened up, not taking his eyes off her and using his peripheral vision to pick out the men moving around behind the bushes, he and Connor were greatly outnumbered.

Taking in a long breath, he smiled awkwardly, trying to push Charlie out of his thoughts for a moment, "Good to see you again, Duncan."


	9. Chapter 9

**Writing was so much easier when I wasn't working so much, I've finally started getting Sundays off but I spend most of that time doing housework! Dear Lord, don't get me started on housework, I've seriously (and rather worryingly) been thinking that it'd be easier to set fire to the laundry than actually wash it...**

**Looks like I'll only be punching out one chapter a week, two at a push, hope you folks don't mind. Can't thank you enough for reading and reviewing and sticking with me.**

**Ending on a high note:  
Revolution is finally back on in the UK! *Woop***

**PIP**

* * *

Duncan stared at the pair, remembering Sebastian always drunkenly blathering on about having a son before passing out, and the similarities between the two men were uncanny, it wasn't difficult to the connect the dots. She couldn't help but feel just a little bit happy for him, he'd always had it rough and she knew better than anyone how hard it is to know you've got family out there somewhere; she'd spent most of her life searching for hers.

The Blackout destroyed everything; she watched half her family die within the first month. After three, she couldn't take anymore and took off, leaving her fiancé and baby boy behind, she wasn't going to wait for them to die too, it was a stupid decision, one she'd been regretting and trying to take back ever since.

She couldn't think about that now though, not when she was so desperately sober, she couldn't see any booze on the Monroes, and she sure as hell didn't have any thanks to the schmucks in Vegas that had been raiding her camp.

Focusing back on Bass, she took in his haggard appearance; he'd been through the wringer recently, he looked a mess, "Didn't think I'd be seeing your face again, what're you doing back here?"

Honesty was the best policy… Well, most of it, anyway, he'd get to the borrowing of her men for an all-out war later, once he had Charlie back at his side, "I'm looking for someone, a girl."

"Well, no surprises there."

"She's a friend." He shot back quickly.

A smile tugged at Duncan's lips, it was impossible for a woman to be just friends with Sebastian, the womanizer had had pretty much every whore in New Vegas, twice, they were practically kissing his feet! "I'm sure."

Bass gestured at the previously hidden men that stepped out into the open, it was unusual, Duncan normally only kept one or two close, being able to handle herself meant she didn't need a whole army following her around, which said a lot about him, "So, what's with all the beefed up security? Thought you liked being stealthy."

"Some cutie from Vegas tried to jump us." Bass's heart pounded in his chest, he hoped Charlie wouldn't be that stupid.

"Jump you guys?" He chuckled nervously, badly hiding his discomfort and concern, "Bad move."

"Yeah, well, she was good," She frowned as the scene replayed itself in her head, there was so much blood, she hadn't seen moves like that in a long time, "Took out two of my guys before anyone got a finger on her."

This wasn't sounding good, "What happened to her?"

"What do you think happened?" Duncan twirled what was previously his gun around her finger playfully, "I put a bullet in her."

Everything seemed to freeze, her words echoed through Bass's distraught head. Duncan was lying, just trying to big herself up, she had to be, Charlie was fine, she wasn't dead, he must've tracked her wrong, she probably hadn't even gone this far out, she was fine, absolutely fine, not dead, just fine.

But what if she wasn't…

He'd killed her. It was his gun, he had killed her. Bile started to rise in his throat at the thought of her recognising that gun before a bullet shot out of it and passed between her eyes.

Miles would never forgive him and Rachel would certainly kill him, in fact, at this point, Bass was more than happy to do it for her. Charlie was his anchor, the one thing that made sense in his world; there were so many things he wanted to tell her, wanted to give her, a long, happy and normal life being at the top of the list.

His chest felt tight, each breath feeling harder and harder to take, things got a bit shaky before he took a long, deep breath, calming himself. Charlie wasn't dead, she couldn't be, he'd know if she was.

Taking a threatening step closer, he towered over Duncan's petite frame, he wouldn't hurt her but damn… He wanted to, and he'd certainly struggle not to if it really was Charlie she was talking about, "Show me."

Duncan held her ground; having never been afraid of Bass before, what was more troubling to her was the emotions he was showing and trying to hide, having emotions, rather than the lack of them, made Sebastian dangerous, it made him unpredictable, "Why? You think it's your girlfriend?" she scoffed, "As if any of your chicks could take on even one of my guys."

His voice shook with rage, "She could take on all your guys and then some if she wanted, trust me, I've seen her fight," he raised his chin with stubborn pride, "I taught her."

Duncan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, Sebastian was giving a master class in murder, this girl must be some sort of special, "Well, that would explain a lot. Alright, we'll see. C'mon."

The camp wasn't too far away, but every second felt like a lifetime for Bass, he needed to know for sure, and he needed to know half an hour ago. His heart hadn't calmed and it was beginning to make his chest ache.

Winding through the old, dirtied tents, he found himself bumping into familiar faces, Duncan's clan was like her family, everyone was close and no one ever left, unless they got themselves killed, the men that had died would be mourned and missed by all.

They were led to the very edge of the camp, Duncan slid in front of the tent flaps, blocking the way, "You sure about this?" Bass didn't answer, shoving past Duncan aggressively and darting inside instead, quickly followed by a disheartened Connor, he had jumped to the same conclusion as his father, he wished he'd gone after her now.

It was dark inside, and cold. There were cots with bodies in, some were alive, others were touch and go. Bass's knees gave out beneath him and he crumbled to the floor next to one bed, its occupant looking terrifyingly familiar in the dim light…

"Charlie."

* * *

Confident in his new alliance with the Mathesons, Tom Neville practically skipped to the barn upon getting their secret message for a meeting. The punch to his nose as he crept down the stairs wasn't entirely unexpected, this was Miles, after all, but still, an explanation would be required if they wanted to stay on each other's side.

"And just what the hell was that for, Miles?" He scowled, gripping his pained face and rolling his eyes as blood began to flow from his nose.

In truth, he could guess pretty accurately what was wrong; he'd neglected to tell them that his son was in town, it was the only thing that had really happened in the past few days, everything else continuing just as it had been before the Nevilles had even got there. But was that really worth throwing a cheap punch over?

Tom assumed they were unaware of just why Jason was there, that he'd arrived with a bunch of guards ready to shoot his brains out if things weren't going as they should. His own son was being used as a warning, a reminder not to try and worm his way out of his difficult predicament.

Miles rubbed his reddening knuckles, the pain being minimal after a lifetime of fighting, it was mostly scar tissue there now anyway, "You wanna tell me what your kid is doing walking around Willoughby?"

Pulling a rag out of his pocket, Tom cleaned himself up, "Keeping me in line. C'mon, Miles, you're getting old but I didn't think you'd lost your touch that bad, you must've seen the bunch of ass hats he arrived with… His own gang of personal assassins, ready to pull the trigger on him without a second thought."

Rachel almost had to physically hold Miles back from swinging again at the comment about his age; it was a sore spot for him, because it was true. The past two years had been absolute madness, his body needed a break, he needed a break.

With all brutality and low blow jokes pushed aside, they got down to the nitty gritty. The idea to rescue Jason was swiftly abandoned, it was imperative that their little union was kept a secret and Tom was sure his son could handle himself, he'd survived this long, that had to count for something.

Talk quickly turned to the advancement of the reprogramming centre, it wouldn't be long until it was fully functional and up and running. "I suggest," Tom turned to Rachel with what appeared to be genuine concern in his eyes, "You keep your daughter well hidden, or, even better, get her the hell away from here."

Rachel responded with her usual coldness, giving nothing away, "Believe me, I intend to."

Miles gave her a look of frustration and confusion but once more, she remained impassive, revealing nothing of what was going on in her head.

Charlie getting typhus made Rachel realise that her strong, brave, independent warrior daughter wasn't invincible, and she certainly wasn't indestructible, she could get hurt and she could die and very few people in the world would bat an eyelid. It was time to start thinking long-term; Rachel would not lose another child to war.

Tom left as quick as he came, not wanting to rouse suspicion. Miles found himself amused at the idea of Neville having to explain the bruising on his face, the man could have been an actor in another life.

With Tom gone, Rachel's earlier words were remembered, "Isn't Charlie a little old for you to be planning her next steps?"

"Miles, she isn't like you or Bass, alright? Despite all the bravado, she's vulnerable, and… She's still my little girl. We can take her and dad and put them somewhere safe, away from all this."

"Hell no." Gene piped up from the next room, listening in, as usual.

"I second that," Miles smirked, earning an exasperated sigh from Rachel, "There's no way Gene's leaving this town, and Charlie, well she needs to stay here, I need her here, Rachel." It was something he was weirdly proud to admit, he needed Charlie, there had been too many distractions recently, he missed the Miles and Charlie Show!

Unfortunately, his mini-me had been outgrowing him, finding companionship in another, in Bass. They worked well together, connected with each other, making everyone else feel like a third wheel in their company.

It wasn't pleasant to know he was losing her to his brother, best friend and worst enemy, but in the same breath, he couldn't think of anyone better to guide her through the world and protect her. Neither of them had got her killed just yet, but Rachel was right, they were all living on a timer, a plan would need to be constructed for the day when everything went horribly wrong.

Gene appeared in the doorway, he looked worn out but they probably all did these days, "I'm not going anywhere," he scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly, "But Rachel's right, things are getting more and more dangerous here, if we make Charlie fight then we'll lose her."

Getting ganged up on by the sister-in-law and her father was not how Miles expected his day to go, but he remained stubborn, firmly believing that Charlie would be fine. No, she wasn't like him or Bass, but she had them when she needed them, and as a trio, they were damn near untouchable.

A familiar pang echoed in his chest, he missed them.

* * *

She looked like an angel, pale, her pink lips appearing dark against her skin, her golden locks were spread across the pillow and over her shoulders, she looked so peaceful. Her beauty did nothing to console a broken Bass though; he couldn't control himself, silent tears turned into sobs and in desperation, he reached for her hand.

Immediately, he calmed, she was warm, too warm for a dead person. He watched with conflicting emotions as her eyes flickered open sleepily, a gentle smile passing across her features, her voice was croaky but no less wonderful, "Hey, you found me."

"Ch-… Charlotte?!" It was a strangled cry; he buried his face into her neck as she sat up and let himself cry uncontrollably, he didn't care, all that mattered in that moment was that she was alive, he hadn't lost her.

Instinctively, Charlie wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, people crying was one of her few weaknesses, she couldn't sit there and not do anything, especially when it was Bass, he wasn't really known for his emotional outbursts, not out in public anyway. Yet, here he was, shaking, sobbing and snivelling violently against her, it was beginning to make her own eyes water.

After several minutes, Bass stood and turned to Duncan, grabbing her firmly by the arms, he shook her, feeling furious, "You said you'd killed her!"

"No, I said I shot her," He turned back to Charlie as she removed the blanket that had been covering her, revealing her to be almost topless apart from her black bra and a bloody bandage across the side of her stomach, Connor averted his gaze respectfully, he'd seen girls in their underwear before but this was different, "I wanted her to stop killing my men, a skillset like hers shouldn't be wasted."

Considering the emotional torment he'd just gone through, Bass felt lost, there was too much going on and a headache began hammering through his skull, everything seemed so out of his control and he was someone who needed control, particularly of himself, bad things happened when he let his emotions rule him.

He crept back to Charlie's side, she was his safe place, one look in her bright and loving eyes soothed his inner demons and brought back the Bass that everyone liked.

"Leave us." His voice was barely above a whisper but the pain behind his words was loud and clear, Connor was the first to leave, his eyes pleading for Duncan to follow, his dad was in a bad place right now, he didn't need harassing. Eventually, she did leave, assuming the trio would be staying for a few days, they'd need tents.

Bass pulled Charlie into another tight embrace that was both suffocating yet loving, it was a confusing and powerful combination for Charlie; she missed feeling so cared for, so needed. She thought, for a sad moment, that it was like Danny all over again.

Shuffling backwards, they were separated by mere inches; his eyes were red and raw from crying but still held their usual intensity, he cupped her cheek in his hand, "Don't you ever do that to me again. Ever."

She shook her head, "Never.", before leaving a gentle kiss on his lips, something he responded all too eagerly to, kissing her back deeply, nibbling and biting with want.

Charlie couldn't stop from crying out in pain when his hands got minds of their own and starting exploring her body, grabbing his usual spot on her waist that was unfortunately where she had been shot, he stilled immediately, terrified that he had seriously hurt her.

He backed off and stood, ready to walk away, "You should rest."

"Wait," She grabbed his hand, "Stay with me, please."

Bass paused to assess, he didn't want to hurt her again, but she was giving him those damn puppy dog eyes, and he didn't really want to leave her anyway, "Alright, budge up."

Smiling triumphantly, she did as instructed and let him jump under the blanket and cocoon himself around her, mindful of her wound. His warmth, and the rhythmic beating of his heart against her back, quickly soothed her into the best sleep she'd had in weeks.

Duncan came back a while later to find them both curled up in each other's arm, sleeping peacefully. She looked over the woman that had stolen Bass's heart, the woman that would eventually kill him, he was too attached, Duncan could only hope he would learn to distance himself just a little bit, it would be the only way to cope with what was the inevitable with these kind of relationships.

Leaning over, she tapped Bass on the shoulder; he was awake within seconds and ready to strike, something she was all too used to and didn't even flinch, she watched with disappointment as he checked over Charlie straightaway to make sure she was safe, "Found you guys a tent."

He nodded a silent 'thank you' before nudging Charlie awake and picking her up delicately, keeping the blanket firmly wrapped around her, he knew she didn't need babying but it made him feel better.

Shuffling into another tent, Bass looked around suspiciously as he placed Charlie down on the bed, he turned back to Duncan and Connor, "There's only one bed."

Connor stepped forward, a smirk plastered across his face, "Yeah, I thought it'd be a good idea to let you guys talk and stuff, I'll just…," he waved his hands around casually, "Find something to do."

Bass stared back and forth between the pair; Duncan started blushing, actually blushing! He rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his face, "Okay, whatever, can you just stay safe, please?"

Charlie started giggling as they slipped out of the tent silently together, "N'awww, baby Bass is growing up!"

Turning back towards her, Bass grinned, "Kid's got one thing on his mind," he knelt down beside her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Least it's not you."

She frowned curiously, "Since when?"

"I have no idea but I'm not complaining, means you are all _mine_." Charlie couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard as he growled and began nibbling on her neck. He wasn't going to hold back anymore, he didn't want to, life was too short.

His lips made their way around her neck, down her chest and stomach; he laid a soft, loving kiss on her bandaged wound before finding her own lips again, she tugged and pulled at his hair and clothes, seeking skin on skin contact.

He pulled away slightly with a heart stopping smile, "You sure about this? 'Cause, y'know, you're never going to get rid of me afterwards."

Charlie stared into the eyes she'd grown to know, love and trust so much, he was happy, he was really happy, and if he was happy, then she was too, "Good."

Bass woke up to find a nude Charlie lying across his chest, staring at him with sad eyes, he weaved his fingers through her hair, bedhead looked exceptional on her, and she looked exceptional on him.

He cast his mind back to their nocturnal activities, he'd said it to himself many times in his life but that really was the best night of his entire life, it was less about the amazing, hot, passionate sex and more about being able to give in to one another completely, finally, they'd waited long enough! He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so… Whole.

Her sadness worried him though, he thought for a moment that she was regretting what had happened the night before, but reassured himself, if there was even a slither of hesitation in her mind, she wouldn't have let it happen, something else was troubling her.

"What's the matter?"

She sat up with a sigh and turned away from him, he thrummed his fingers down the soft, bare skin of her back, making her shiver. She shook her head, she couldn't let herself get distracted, "I think I'm staying here."

That was unexpected. Bass frowned up at her, wishing she'd face him, he sat up beside her, "What're you talking about?"

"Duncan likes me, she might be a bit more willing to trade some men, and I can't really go anywhere anyway, not like this, but Miles needs these guys now, not when it suits me," She had a point, and they both knew she did, "It'll only be a few weeks."

"No."

"Bass…"

"No! I almost lost you, you really think I'm crazy enough to just walk away and leave you here?!"

She sent an infuriatingly cute smirk his way as she pulled her clothes on, "No, but I'm asking you to, there are bigger things than us going on right now."

"Is there? That's not how I see it." He dropped himself back against the bed with a heavy sigh; it was a losing battle from the second it started, he tried to reason that it wouldn't be too long, and he'd probably end up coming back for her, as always.

It was later that day that the boys were ready to ride off again, accompanied by two of Duncan's men that Charlie had managed to barter, and a few more that Connor had more successfully convinced her to loan out, the boy had definitely inherited the Monroe charm, she was like putty in his hands.

Bass and Charlie had one last moment in each other's arms, but it didn't feel like a goodbye, they'd be seeing each other again, no matter what.

"I'll come back as soon as I can," he whispered in her ear before leaning back and kissing her forehead, "Try not to get killed or anything, I know that's tricky for you."

Charlie giggled at his cheeky little wink as he jumped onto his horse; she could feel the painful, longing tug in her heart almost immediately as he began to ride away, "Be careful!" she called after him.

"Always am." He didn't look back, he couldn't, otherwise he knew he would stay.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:**

**The hiatus has truly buggered up my scheduling, the times I used to have to write are now being spent either getting an extra hour in bed, browsing Tumblr, or catching up with the telly!**

**PIP's gone lazy!**

**Going to make a habit of ending on a high note:**

**The weather in England has done a U-turn, we've gone from weeks of rain, wind and plenty of flooding, to glorious flippin' sunshine! Which almost guarantees snow in July or something...**

**PIP**

* * *

The journey back to Willoughby was boring, but mercifully uneventful and quick; the Monroe men were being pushed on by what Charlie had said about Miles needing these men as soon as possible, Bass wanting to be back by her side also helped, the ache in his chest was more of a comfort now, reminding him that what they had was real, it wasn't all in his head.

But as signs for the Texan town they'd all been calling home started popping up, his focus was entirely on Miles, what would he tell him? None of what had happened in Vegas would be good news to his aging ears, and then there was Charlie, or rather the lack of her, he definitely wouldn't be pleased about that, Bass could almost feel the fists smacking into his face already.

As the sun set on another day spent travelling, their mini-army took refuge in a small patch of woodland, making camp and sparing Bass from the Matheson fury that awaited him just a few miles down the road. Despite being out in the open for days, he felt suffocated, he needed some alone time.

With a sharp, trusting nod to his son, Bass took off towards the darkening horizon, he wouldn't go far, he just wanted to get away, just for a little while, it wasn't too much to ask after the hell they'd all been going through recently.

He came to a large, rocky hill just as a multitude of stars began making an appearance in the sky, it would take a while to climb it, which is exactly why he did; it required concentration and was a welcome distraction, regardless of the bruising and scratching he was sure to have received from clambering around jagged rocks in the dark.

Collapsing at the top, Bass heaved in what he had been longing for: air. Fresh, clean, cool air. It cleared his mind so that all he had to think about was breathing in that sweet, sweet oxygen.

Out of nowhere, he laughed, seemingly at everything, and nothing. Staring up at the stars and breathing so deeply had made him dizzy, the world spun around him, it felt good, almost euphoric. He hadn't felt this spaced out since Rachel OD'ed him on barbiturates! He was well aware that hell awaited him just around the corner, but he really didn't give a damn.

All that mattered was the here and now, just for a few precious moments.

Bass had friends, sort of, he had family, and even a lover, and perhaps a home too, what more could he possibly want? All the armies in the world couldn't equate to that. He hadn't really thought much about the Republic recently, but if losing it is what it took to get a little normality in his life, then he didn't want it back.

Normal seemed like such a funny word in connection with him but it was the right one. Normal people had friends, didn't they? They had someone to spend their days with, right? Sure, they didn't lose it and go crazy with a sword in their hand, but still… He was close enough.

A cold chill in the breeze sobered him, he'd been so absorbed by his thoughts that he hadn't realised just how cold he was. Sitting up, Bass let the cool air sting his still flushed cheeks before climbing back down, he'd got his breathing space, he'd had a think, it had been fun, now it was time to head home.

From a distance, Willoughby didn't look all that didn't from when they'd left; Bass had decided to scout it out with the excuse that it would give the men a chance to get used to the area, but in reality, he just wanted to keep away from Miles just a little bit longer, still unable to think of an acceptable enough reason for Charlie not being with them.

After several hours of time-wasting, the familiar track down to the barn came into view; there was a collective sigh from the Monroe men, "Time to face the music."

Bass hadn't taken more than a few steps ahead when a large figure charged at him from the treeline, brandishing what appeared to be… A frying pan. Reflexively, Bass's sword was in the air in moments and crashed against the pan. Pinned against each other, they got a good look at their opponents and immediately lowered their weapons, "Stay Puft?"

It was indeed Aaron. Fat, beardy, depressed Aaron, he looked rough, but Bass would've happily brought him in for one of his and Miles' 'bro hugs', if they didn't both stink so bad! It was another welcome distraction.

Aaron sighed, chuckling at his poor excuse for a weapon, "Thank God, it's you."

Running a hand over his relieved face, Bass smiled, "'Thank God… It's _me_'? You know you said that out loud, right?", they never thought either of them would be glad to see one another, but they were, they'd never been best buddies or anything like that but they got along, which was better than what most people were dealing with these days.

"I just… I thought you were a Patriot or something, it's nice to see a familiar face, thought I was lost for a while back there."

Bass eyed the rucksack on his friend's back, "You just getting back?" Aaron nodded, how long had it been? Weeks? Months? All the days seemed to merge now, it was a long time, they were sure of that, "Where've you been all this time?"

"To Hell and back, twice," Tears threatened to fall as he remembered everything that had happened, everything he had seen, he shook his head to push the bad thoughts out and finally noticed the little gang to the side of them, "You having a slumber party or something?"

Connor stepped forward and cleared his throat; he held his hand out in an all-too-gentlemanly fashion that made Aaron uneasy, "I'm Connor."

Aaron leaned close to Bass, ignoring the outstretched hand, "Is he meant to look like you?"

Bass smirked as a dejected Connor pulled his hand back and began shifting from foot to foot awkwardly, "He's my son."

Looking back and forth at the pair, he couldn't think of anything quirky to say, he'd forgotten that Monroe had a kid, he had been too busy going crazy in Nano World, "Oh… Good."

Bass grinned proudly and gestured for them to continue walking, "Come on."

They shared bits of their journeys on the way to the barn; most of the talking came from Bass and Connor, Aaron didn't really feel like opening his can of worms, and he definitely wasn't pleased when he found out where they'd left Charlie, but at least she was alive.

"Honeys, we're home." Aaron called out as they ducked down through the barn doors; his dry humour had been missed, Rachel jumped him immediately, wrapping her arms around him the best she could, she had missed her fellow brainiac, talking crazy wasn't so bad when he was around.

Meanwhile, Bass had to deal with Miles…

"What the hell have you done, you idiot?" Miles rolled his sleeves up in preparation. Five extra killers, a loony computer geek and no Charlie, something had definitely gone sideways out in New Vegas.

Bass backed up, self-preservation kicking in again, "Now, Miles, you know no one can tell Charlotte what to do. She's in good hands; I'm going back for her in a couple days."

"Don't bother." Rachel's unusually loud and stern voice from the other side of the room startled them.

"What?" The men responded in unison, the synchronicity making their lips curve childishly for a brief moment.

"This is what we talked about, Miles, she'll be safer there, they've already started taking people."

Bass frowned at her, he couldn't keep up with everything the Patriots had been planning, it seemed like it was something new and deadlier each time! "Take… Taking people? For what?!"

"Reprogramming. They take the young, the fit, the healthy and they… Reprogram them," Bass was still looking at her awkwardly, she thought of something even he would understand, "They make them into super soldiers."

"Super soldiers. Great, we've got five men going up against super soldiers!" It was times like this that Bass could do with Charlie by his side, a single look from her would keep him strong. He sighed, running his hands over his face, "If I don't go back for Charlie, she's just gonna come here on her own."

In an extremely rare moment, Bass could actually see Rachel scheming and piecing a plan together, she was normally so closed off, especially around him, his stomach did a somersault at the idea that she was finally starting to let him in.

Rachel thought back to the idea she'd had on one of her crazy days, about packing a bag for her only remaining child and the man she had detested for so long, and sending them on their merry way, safe, happy and away from all this mess.

No matter how much Miles thought he needed Bass, the fact was that this was a losing battle, they weren't going to beat the Patriots, not easily anyway and certainly not any time soon. And it was becoming obvious that they wouldn't all survive if some miracle allowed them to win, they'd been getting by on quick thinking in a crisis and sheer dumb luck.

It didn't help that they were a self-sacrificial, suicidal bunch of morons; they'd all take a bullet for another, which meant Miles was probably going to be the last man standing, him being the favourite.

She could see Bass trying to get into her head. Nodding quickly, she shut herself off again, they'd talk later.

Brain probing somewhat unsuccessful, Bass turned back to Miles, "So, looking past the super soldiers and the usual threat of mass murder, how'd it go with Tom?"

"He's on our side."

Bass smiled sarcastically, "Great. Finally, some good news!"

Miles shook his head, shrugging his shoulders in that old carefree, hippy fashion that Bass could never understand, "But he can't help us."

"Oh for the love of God!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache brewing. How had things gone so wrong? He was too exhausted to attempt to plan their next move, "You guys sort this out yourselves, I need a lie down." he couldn't recall ever sounding so old.

Shuffling into the adjacent room where the closest thing to a bed was, Bass felt his heart sink upon finding Gene chilling in there, he seriously disputed with himself whether or not he was about to kick an old man out of his bed.

Deciding against being a major ass, he pulled a blanket out of his backpack instead and huddled into a corner, he was used to sleeping on floors, it didn't bother him anymore but just once, a soft surface would have been nice.

He slipped in and out of slumber, mumbling 'shut the hell up' several times, and dragging the blanket over his face whenever the others started arguing and waking him up.

Hearing Rachel call his name snapped him right out of what was becoming a very lovely Charlie-centric dream, hearing her voice whilst he was sleeping had never ended well for either of them in the past, he eyed her warily before sitting up, certain she didn't have anything pointy on her.

She beckoned for him to follow her, another thing that normally meant trouble, but there was vulnerability about her now that tugged at that soft spot in his heart. They walked out through the fields and trees until the barn had completely disappeared from view and Bass stopped, "What's going on, Rach?"

"I want you to run away." Her response was quick and sharp, like she'd rehearsed it a thousand times, "Go find Charlie, and both of you just go."

"Go? Go where? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and Charlie need to disappear, you need to look after her, Bass, please, you owe me, keep her safe." The more she spoke, the quicker her strong façade slipped and tears began to flow down her cheeks, after what this man had done to her son; she had to trust him with her daughter.

Bass understood, for once, and cautiously pulled her into a hug, aware that she could change her mind and try and kill him at any given moment. She resisted a little at first but eventually allowed herself to snuggle into his chest briefly, appreciating the rare offer of comfort.

They stayed that way for a few more minutes but Rachel hadn't quite stopped sobbing yet when Bass caught movement out of the corner of his eye, making him painfully aware of how vulnerable they both were, he only had a little pocket knife on him, having left all his gear back at the barn, "Get down!" he threw them to the ground as gunfire erupted around them.

Covering Rachel's body with his own, he kept his head down until the shooting stopped, the grass around them was tall enough to conceal them but it also put them at a disadvantage, they had no idea where their attackers were.

Seeing an opportunity to make a run for it, he nudged Rachel, keeping his voice low, "We need to go."

Panicking, her voice came out rushed and in a harsh whisper, "_No. I can't."_

"Rachel," Frustrated, he flipped her over onto her back and she found herself looking up at General Monroe all over again, "You're going to get up off your ass and we're gonna run, alright? Or neither of us is ever going to see Charlie again."

Despite being utterly terrified and full of hate, she couldn't help but feel glad at seeing the General slip into place again, she needed someone to take control and tell her what to do, she wasn't good in these situations.

Grabbing her arm, Bass pulled them into a low crouch and began scurrying towards a thicker part of woodland; it would provide better coverage so they could figure out what just happened and what they were going to do next.

The first and most obvious thought running through Bass's head was that it was the Patriots behind the attack and, judging by the way they crept up on them like that, it was their new Terminator batch, let loose to train.

Fabulous.

Now they just needed to figure out how to get away from them, fighting them was not an option, knives didn't go well against guns and he was still pretty shattered from everything that had happened in Vegas.

He didn't even have time to scout out another place to hide before something shifted in his peripheral vision and the familiar click of a gun echoed on the wind, he grabbed Rachel again as he scrambled to his feet, "Run!"

Tom crashed through the barn doors unexpectedly, making Miles roll off the sofa in alarm, the bottle of whiskey he'd been cuddling in his sleep smashed to the floor but was ignored, "Time to go, Miles."

He let himself catch his breath before continuing, "The Patriots, they know you're all down here, they've sent the new recruits."

Miles pulled his jacket on quickly, instantly ready to leave at the mention of Patriots. Uncharacteristically, he paled as he took in what Neville said, "New recruits, as in… The army of zombies?"

Tom cocked an eyebrow in exasperation and anxiety, he had seen what those kids were capable of, it wasn't something to take lightly, "Yes. You need to get out of here."

Aaron and Gene appeared from the next room brandishing rucksacks, "We're ready." Gene had been prepared for something like this for a long time; he knew they'd get discovered eventually.

There was a brief moment of tension as Aaron and Tom recognised each other but they quickly brushed it aside with silent nods, there were more important things going on than what had happened between them.

They all made their way towards the stairs when Connor stepped around them, "What about Rachel and my dad? They're out there."

Tom turned back to Miles, confusion riddling his features, "Who's the kid?"

"Long story, let's go," he nodded for the others to move out, giving him and Connor a moment alone, "I'll find them later, Bass can handle himself."

The group of men started heading in the direction of where Duncan's mercenaries were camped, it was time to put them to the test. They hadn't even made it over the hill when they started hearing gunshots.

When a bullet shot into the ground dangerously close to his feet, Miles spun around, weapon at the ready, and opened fire, taking two men out with little effort. He glanced over at Tom with no shortage of cocky glee, something that was quickly dampened as a bullet flew past his head.

They all made a dash for the treeline as the barn they'd been calling home for so long went up in flames behind them.

Rachel and Bass had been running around for hours, they were quickly running out of trees to duck behind. In all his years of wartime experience, Bass had never let himself get caught out in the open, it was a cardinal rule, especially when you were unarmed. But they were out of options, the fields was the only place left to escape through.

Thankfully, he didn't need to voice this suicidal idea to Rachel, she already knew what they needed to do. Bass wasn't sure if he was scaring or comforting her with the serious look in his eyes, he grabbed her shoulder gently but kept his voice firm, "Keep moving, a moving target is harder to hit, okay?"

She simply nodded, too afraid to try and speak for fear of garbling her words or getting noticed and shot at again. Taking a shaky step forward, she scanned the vast, open surroundings, all was quiet, it was unnerving. Her legs seemed to develop minds of their own and charged her onwards, shots rang out almost immediately and her first instinct was to duck and cover but Bass screamed for her to keep going, so she did.

Her legs were burning, but she kept going, her chest was heaving, but she kept going, sweat and tears were stinging her eyes and blurring her vision, but she kept going. She kept running until something happened that she couldn't so easily ignore, it felt like a dull thud at first, then the excruciating burning put her on the floor as blood erupted from her shoulder.

Bass collided with her seconds later and was sent tumbling to the ground as well, "Rachel, what are you doing?!" she rolled onto her back, coughing, which is when he saw the bloody bullet wound on the side of her chest, "No, no, no, no, you can't do this," he had to flatten himself to the floor as more shots were fired, he pressed on her wound to stop her bleeding out, making her scream, "Stay with me, please, Rachel?"

They had hurt each other a lot over the years, they'd even tried to kill each other on several occasions, but this is not what Bass wanted, not now, not like this, "Please don't do this," he could barely see, tears clouding his eyes, anger and desperation raged through him as her blood flowed around his fingers, "M-MILES?! C'mon, Miles, where are you?" he shouted out at the empty space around them.

With the last of her energy, Rachel covered his hand with her own, she looked peaceful, accepting that this was probably it, her voice was remarkably calm and soothing for someone who'd just been shot, "You have to take care of Charlie, Bass, don't let her go."

"I won't, I promise, I'll look after her." He didn't want to register that those were her last words, her last request, but he couldn't deny it any longer when she stilled, when her chest stopped rising and falling, "Rach-Rachel?" he shook her, "No, Rachel, come back, come on, you've gotta come back!"

He could hear an intense amount of gunfire going on, but none of it was aimed at him, it all turned into a droning earache as he checked Rachel's pulse, confirming what he didn't want to believe. Forgetting the world around him, he sobbed against her stomach, the guilt started to set in, he had killed her, he had made her life miserable, and now he'd killed her.

"Bass?" It was one of two voices he didn't want to hear right now, "Bass, what's go- Oh no…" Miles sunk to his knees beside his friend as his eyes ran over his lover's lifeless body, his voice was strained, strangled, "_Rachel._"


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:**

**I know, I know, I'm a total douche for killing off Rachel, but I feel like this is something that needs to happen in the show, they need to kill off a major character that everyone felt differently about and shift people's emotions around a bit, maybe pave the way for some unexpected character developments...**

**I have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm ill and seem to have lost the plot a bit, thank you antihistamines!**

**Charlie and Bass's screen time together seems less... Electric, not happy about this, this needs to be changed, and soon.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing, it really does mean so much to me,**

**Love to all,**

**PIP**

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Taking the risk of getting themselves killed, the men buried Rachel in the old town graveyard; it felt only right to give her a proper burial, Willoughby was her home and they certainly couldn't bury her by the burnt up barn with Cynthia, much to Aaron's dismay.

Feeling broken and defeated, they hardly spoke; no one ate or slept, each choosing to grieve alone, a splintered family.

Tom quickly found them other accommodations, an old farmer's house, as far away from the town as possibly convenient for all of them, it was sparsely furnished but it gave them all the space they needed from one another. He departed a little while after the burial, having his own family to consider. The men hadn't heard from him in a few days now, something that wasn't entirely good or bad.

Unusually, there was no blame cast on Bass, but it only made him feel worse, he wanted to be blamed, wanted to be beaten half to death, thrown out on his ass and told to disappear, but no matter how much he sought their pain and hatred, they denied him it, seeing he was suffering just as much as the rest of them, he didn't need any more hurt, none of them did.

Bass had given up on the idea of going to get Charlie; truthfully, he hoped she stayed out in Vegas, just so that he wouldn't have to be the one to tell her that her mom was dead. But he knew she would be making her way home soon, despite Duncan's best persuasion techniques, Charlie knew her place was by his side.

The inevitable conversation and its many scenarios and repercussions played out over and over again in his head, he envisioned her glaring at him coldly before putting a bullet between his eyes, or even putting the gun to her own head and pulling the trigger, he ended up getting physically sick whenever that grim situation scraped its way into his mind.

Connor tried his best to empathise but after days of silence, he couldn't handle it, he wasn't going to watch their little group get destroyed by grief. He took to hunting, something that wasn't all that appreciated by a bunch of people that had no desire to eat, but on the rare occasion, someone would snack on something, it gave him hope that there was a way forward.

Surprisingly, Gene was next to snap out of the darkness that had been clouding his brain, realising that although his daughter was dead, he still had a granddaughter out there that would need him soon. He loved Rachel, he didn't get to say it often but he hoped she knew it; it was one of many regrets that were pushed to the back of his mind.

She certainly wouldn't be happy about them sitting around, being all mopey and 'woe is me', they had a war to fight, and they couldn't let the Patriots get away with killing her. It was something he reminded them of daily, sparking some life into them. The idea of avenging her definitely seemed like a good idea to Miles and Bass, as if the act would give them some closure.

After several more painful days of coming to terms with, and accepting Rachel's death, they were all back to scheming and plotting and pretty soon, a plan was almost in place, filled with plenty of the usual slashing, slicing and dicing with added explosions, all they had to do now was get their sorry asses in gear and do it.

Finally realising the importance of food and the energy it provided, Bass and Miles joined Connor on a hunt the day before they were going to execute their plan, the nutrition would give them the extra bounce they'd need to fight.

A few hours in and they'd managed to catch some rabbits, nothing overly substantial but enough to keep them going for a couple days.

Then Bass spotted something that made his blood run cold, "Hold up," he bent down and shuffled some leaves around on the floor, "These are Charlie's tracks."

"What? You sure?" Miles questioned, doubting she could sneak back into the area without them noticing.

Bass stood with a sigh and began following the all too familiar footprints, "The amount of times I've tracked this girl is un-freakin'-believable, it's her."

He had taught Charlie how to hide her tracks better, if she'd left them so carelessly then they were obviously meant to be found and followed. His heart raced in his chest at the idea of seeing her again, it was a shame it wouldn't be the loving, tender reunion he'd envisioned before Rachel died, she probably wouldn't even look at him again after finding out.

Refocusing on more happy thoughts, he remembered their night together, her soft skin beneath his hands, the gentle but desperate whispers of his name as he nibbled on her neck, the way their bodies moulded with one another perfectly, her firm heartbeat as he rested his head against her chest.

Shaking his head, Bass pushed aggressively through some bushes, reminding himself that that was the first and last time; he couldn't see a way back after what happened to Rachel, he couldn't see Charlie allowing anyone near her, least of all him.

Shifting slowly towards the edge of the treeline, the men were faced with a tent city, bustling with men. Recognising several of the men, and the style of the tents, Bass pondered on the thought that perhaps Duncan had decided to join the fight.

Springing up from his hiding place, he walked towards what he assumed was the entrance to the camp and towards the two armed guys guarding it. The others followed blindly, hoping he knew what he was doing, their hearts stopped collectively for several beats when weapons were drawn and a shouting match ensued.

"Stand down, they're okay." Charlie rounded the corner of a tent, the men felt a stab of pain as they examined her, she had been beaten up recently, with sore, black bruises covering her face and neck and probably other places of her body, her lip was split and there was a cut down her eyebrow, ending dangerously close to her eye.

Looking at some of the other men around her, they weren't fairing much better, something had gone seriously wrong back in Vegas.

Bass sent a thankful nod her way, sensing now wasn't exactly the time for a heartfelt hug and overprotectiveness, it seemed like they both had things to tell each other, the air felt thicker and harder to breathe in as she led them all to her tent, it wouldn't be long now until her world came crashing down around her.

Once inside, Bass pulled her into a near suffocating embrace, forgetting for a moment that Miles was unaware of how far their relationship had progressed from 'just a kiss', he didn't care at this point anyway, wanting one last moment of happiness with his partner, she held him just a little tighter than necessary too, enjoying the calm before the storm.

They separated when Miles cleared his throat, acknowledging the awkwardness that had surrounded them.

Running his hand down her bruised cheek, Bass frowned, "What happened?"

"Turns out, Duncan was in a lot of debt to a lot of bad people, she'd been fighting them off for months but they caught us off guard. They'd slit her throat before I could even blink… I'm sorry, Bass."

There was that heaviness in his chest again, another friend lost. He kissed Charlie's forehead, "It's okay, I'm just glad you're alive."

Miles stepped closer, wanting a better look at his niece; she looked like she'd survived by the skin of her teeth. Annoyingly, he was sure Bass would be thoroughly checking her over later, "So, I get why you're back, but what's with all the macho leather lovers?"

"They're Duncan's men, the survivors anyway, they didn't know what to do with themselves, they needed a leader, they want blood." She was surprised at how many of them had made it, it had been a bloodbath but it was apparent that their loyalty to Duncan had brought out the killers in them.

Miles raised his hands in exasperation, "So you brought 'em here?"

A little bit of Bass rubbing off on her, Charlie squared up to her ungrateful uncle, "Where else were we gonna go, Miles, Canada? You wanted killers, I brought them."

Bass stepped between them, his eyes fixed solely on her, "He's glad you're here, really, it's just… There's something we need to tell you, Charlotte."

"Bass, not now." The kid had enough things going on at the moment.

"You got a better moment, let me know, Miles, it's better she hears it now rather than later," he mumbled over his shoulder before turning back to her, "Charlie, it's your mom, she… We lost her."

"Lost her?" It wasn't quite clicking; her eyes darted back and forth between all of them, "What do you mean you lost her?"

"She's dead," Connor blurted out after no one answered, the older men seemingly more interested in staring at the floor than putting the girl out of her misery, he continued when her eyes pleaded for more information, "Her and my dad were separated from us when we all got ambushed... We got there too late."

At the mention of Bass being involved, Charlie's head whipped around to him, he tried to look her in the eye but each time he did, she grew colder and colder towards him, he knew what was coming, it was the moment he'd been dreading for days, "Did you kill her?"

She still didn't trust him, she couldn't if she had to ask that question, it was tearing him up inside but he simply clenched his jaw and nodded as Connor watched with shock, "Man, that is bull and we all know it! He's just trying to protect you, your mom knew the risks, she ran out into the open under heavy gunfire. She killed herself."

Charlie's eyes softened with what appeared to be tears, but she blinked them away before any of them could be sure, "Give us a minute," it wasn't a request, she waited for Miles and Connor to leave before turning back to the man that was once again the cause of her confusion and pain, he looked devastated, "What's going on with you?"

Sitting down on her bed, Bass scrubbed his hands through his hair vigorously, reeling from finding out she didn't trust him, and from Connor's eagerness to protect him, "I may not have put the bullet in her myself but I led her out there, Charlotte, I didn't have a choice, if we'd stayed, we would've been killed anyway. It's the same with Ben, with your brother, with Emma, and now Rachel, they died because of choices I made, which is no different from killing them myself."

She knelt in front of him, clasping his hands in hers, "It's very different, my brother died fighting a war, Emma got shot by a Georgian, and my mom…," she wasn't sure if her tears were for Rachel, or Bass, "My mom's had a death wish for a long time now."

He knew what she was getting at, he'd been told many times by various people, and by himself, but it never made the guilt go away.

"You didn't kill her, Bass, but if you're looking for something to feel guilty about," she smirked, "You haven't said 'hello' yet."

This woman drove him to the brink of insanity, he was smiling, how the hell did she keep doing that to him?! Leaning closer, he tugged her into a firm but loving kiss, burying his hands in her hair, "Hey." He breathed against her lips.

"Hi." Needing some more of that, she moved closer again, which is when the ever perfectly timed Connor walked in, smirking proudly at assisting in getting them back together properly, it didn't have to be all shouting and anger all the time.

Charlie decided to think about her mom later, away from the group, she needed to stay focused right now and they had seemingly been through an emotional rollercoaster of their own, they didn't need her adding to the mix, besides, she really wanted to check out their new lodgings, hoping for a safer place to put her men.

Bass knew she was keeping it all in and gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze as they all walked to the farmhouse together, he'd be there when she needed him, as always.

It was sore moment when they passed by the old barn, its charred remains serving as a permanent reminder of how badly things had gone wrong. They had memories made in that barn, most of them were awful but there were a few moments that brought smiles to their faces whenever they thought about them.

The place had been their home; sure, it was uncomfortable and claustrophobic, and stunk to high hell whenever the men were around, but it was the one place any of them had felt relatively safe in, which was a luxury these days.

The farmhouse was further away than she had expected, which was good for avoiding Patriot patrols but should anything happen to them out here, they'd be on their own. Still, it looked like a pretty comfortable place, nice and spacious, probably with a good view of the surrounding area, there wasn't much in the way of cover for her men but considering how far away from the town they were, they probably wouldn't need it.

Shuffling inside, she was pulled into an overly tight hug by Gene, something that brought tears to her eyes, firstly due to her body's variety of injuries being agonisingly squished, tugged and pulled, but more importantly because of the emotion behind it, his daughter had died, he was latching onto the one person he had left to live and fight for.

Next in line was Aaron, there were numerous creative words she wanted to scream and shout at him, none of them particularly good. She was surprised he was even alive, having never been all that good at looking after himself on his own, but despite taking off on her watch and getting her into Miles's bad books, the man had practically raised her, alongside her dad and Maggie, he was family, and he looked terrible, a quick hug wouldn't hurt.

Her heart fluttered when Bass revealed he had saved her a room, but as they climbed the stairs, she found herself deflated and even a little nervous at the prospect of having a room to herself and spending nights alone, she hadn't slept much since the attack back in New Vegas, it had scared her more than she wanted to admit.

Taking the room in, she realised there was a lot more furniture in here than the rest of the house, she wondered if it had been put there for her comfort and benefit, it certainly wasn't a coincidence that this room had been picked for her.

"It's not much." Bass started as he peered around the room again himself, making sure everything was okay. After everything Charlie had been through, she should be living in a palace, but he did the best he could with what he had.

She was immediately drawn to the window directly opposite the bed; it had an amazing view of the sun starting to set behind a hill, "It's perfect."

Coming up behind her, Bass wrapped his arms around her waist carefully, having noticed her pained expression when Gene had hugged her earlier, it made his blood boil that she couldn't even embrace her friends and relatives properly because someone had hurt her. Still, she seemed content now and he'd always appreciated a good sunset and he couldn't think of better way to watch one than with her in his arms.

In the last of the light, he began tugging at her tank top as his lips grazed her ear; her hands went to his wrists to stop him, "Show me, I want to see what they've done to you. I want to make it better."

She didn't want him to see, it would only upset him, but his kisses were distracting to say the least! It wasn't long before he had her shrugging off her jacket and pinned against a wall, she desperately tried to convince herself that she had more willpower than that, but who was she trying to kid?

There was something about the way his hands glided across her skin so electrically that turned her into putty, hot, sweaty, glorious putty.

He went about leaving sweet, soft kisses on every cut and bruise scattered across her body, being especially gentle around her blackened ribs, he could be mad about it later, right now, he just wanted to hold her, to have her.

Picking her up, she squealed and giggled as he carried her over to the appropriately sized double bed and dropped her onto it, his cheeky grin widening as he crawled up her slim figure.

The other occupants of the house were left to roll their eyes and stare at one another with shock and humorous horror as the couple unsuccessfully tried to hide what was going on upstairs. It was something they had all anticipated, you could practically see the sparks between the pair, but did they really have to listen to it?!

Miles couldn't really complain about it, he'd pretty much consented to their relationship when he let Bass get off so lightly for kissing Charlie all those weeks ago, plus, he'd seen them interact and it was a real struggle to come up with adequate enough reasons against them being together, she was just as much an adult as the rest of them, and Bass's lovey-dovey overprotective neediness would keep her safe, and they made each other happy, most of the time.

But still, he wasn't going to sit around and listen to his niece and his best friend going at it, he decided to take the men that the Monroe boys brought back to the rest of their clan, being reunited with their peers again ought to lift their spirits.

It was a short time after Miles left that the activity upstairs settled down, much to Gene, Aaron and even Connor's relief, he wanted his dad to be happy, but maybe not _that_ happy. He hadn't forgotten his feelings for Charlie, just buried them deep enough to protect his dad, it would be a pretty dick-ish move to try and take away one of the few things that gave him purpose.

Pulling the blanket up over them, Charlie snuggled into Bass's chest, breathless and thoroughly satisfied; it amazed her how well he could keep up with her, she considered herself lucky. He could take control and yet, he remained completely in touch with what she was thinking, feeling, unlike anyone else she'd been with.

Bass thrummed his fingers up and down her arm, catching his own breath alongside her, "Y'know, when your mom asked me to take care of you, something tells me this isn't what she had in mind."

Charlie sat up slightly to see him properly, his eyes reflecting what little light the evening sky had to offer, "What?"

"That's why we were alone when we got attacked; she was telling me she wanted us to run away, so you wouldn't get killed."

"Us, as in you and me, run away together, alone?" He nodded as tears and questions filled her eyes, she hadn't expected something like from her mom, for her to turn to Bass, it must have been something she desperately wanted, "Would you?"

Bass tilted his head, wiping away her tears with the pad of his thumb as he considered the idea, "In a heartbeat, if it's what you want."

She did want to, for the first time in a long time, she wanted to hide away, turn her back on everything wrong with the world, and let someone else sort the problems out. She had lost way too much in her young life, she couldn't handle having another person she loved die.

All the tears, all the sadness and the grief came pouring out in quiet sobs against Bass's torso, she didn't need to hide from him, he was her lover, her best friend, and he didn't need to do anything other than hold her tight, they had both suffered severe misfortune, it helped them to understand one another, their pain bringing them closer than anyone else had dared to get.

Gradually, her crying subsided and her breathing evened out, Bass assumed she had cried herself to sleep. His little warrior was falling apart, he couldn't let that happen, he wouldn't lose her.


End file.
